Brother of the Bride
by Erin T. Aardvark
Summary: The Impossibles contend with a case of the Wedding Bell Blues, when Fluid Man's half-sister begins dating a guy he dislikes, and distrusts. The problem is, there's really nothing about this guy that would set off any alarms. Or is there?
1. Always a Bridesmaid

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would have called this "Wedding Bell Blues," but I have another story here on that has that title. Parts of this one were inspired by a couple of computer games, "Dream Day Wedding" and "Dream Day Wedding: Married in Manhattan." As always, The Impossibles and Big D belong to Hanna-Barbera. Anyone else you encounter belongs to me. I also apologize in advance over my OC, Phyllis Dawson, coming off as a Mary Sue in this at points, but the focus *will* change through the course of this thing. It's just that sometimes, you need your OC's to be the "star" for awhile in order to get from Point A to Point B. And anyone who isn't familiar with the term "Mary Sue" describing original characters, Look It Up, Dear.

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It was a Saturday evening in June. The Impossibles were playing a wedding. They had been roped into it by Fluey's half-sister, Phyllis. Her friend, Kathy, was the bride, and she was a bridesmaid. Phyllis had been a bridesmaid at all her friends' weddings, and this made her depressed. She was happy for her friends, sure, but it seemed like she was always a bridesmaid, and never a bride. She never even had a steady boyfriend, either. Mainly because every time she brought any boy she was dating home, Big D would somehow or another scare him off.

In any case, the boys took a break from their performance, and walked over to Phyllis.

"Everything okay, sis?" Fluey asked. "You seem kind of depressed."

"I'm okay, Fluey, really," Phyllis sighed. "It's just . . . . . well, the whole always a bridesmaid, never a bride, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, the wedding bell blues," Multi said, nodding.

"I think that's mainly Big D's fault," Fluey said. "You told me he tends to chase off every guy you've ever brought home. Now, in a way, I can see his point."

"You can?" Coiley asked.

"Sure," Fluey said. "He doesn't want Phyllis to get involved with any low lifes, so he intimidates every guy she brings home, no questions asked."

"Oh yeah, I know the type," Multi said, nodding. "My dad's the same way with my sister."

"I guess my sisters should count themselves lucky," Coiley said. "Even though my dad wasn't too crazy about some of the guys both my sisters brought home, he never tried to chase them off, or grill them like swordfish."

"I think he doesn't want to see you make the same mistake in relationships that Dad made, Phyllis," Fluey said.

"Yeah, I see your point, Fluey," Phyllis said, putting her arm around her younger brother's shoulders. "Jack . . . . . I mean, Dad was always getting mixed up with the wrong girl."

(Phyllis grew up thinking Big D was her father, instead of her grandfather. The truth didn't come out until not too long ago).

After the break, the boys went back to the bandstand and continued the music. Another thing Phyllis didn't like about going to her friends' weddings was the fact that the bride would often try to set her up with one of her single relatives, or a single relative of the groom. Actually, the only other one of Phyllis's friends that hadn't been married yet was her best friend, Daisy DuVall, but she never really had the problem Phyllis had, considering she had been dating the same guy for three years.

Finally, it was The Moment of Truth. The Bouquet Toss. Kathy stood on a chair, while all the single girls in the room flocked around. Then, Kathy tossed the bouquet, and all heck broke loose among the girls.

"Stand back, fellas," Coiley warned. "You might lose a limb in there!"

"Why do girls always go crazy over this part of the wedding?" Fluey asked.

"Superstition," Multi said. "They say whoever catches the bride's bouquet is the next one to get married."

"Does it necessarily have to be in one piece?" Fluey asked.

"That, I'm not sure of," Multi said. "Why?"

Fluey pointed over to the mess of girls across the room. They were practically tearing Kathy's bouquet apart, trying to get a piece of it. In the end of the scuffle, it was Phyllis who managed to get the darn thing, amazingly, still in one piece.

"Boy, I thought they'd tear that thing apart!" Fluey shouted. "How'd you swing it, sis?"

"Most everybody here knows never, _ever_ mess with me," Phyllis said. That happened to be true. Phyllis was a black belt in martial arts, and usually wore high heels when she would "demonstrate" a kick or two (no one could figure out just _how_ she could accomplish that, but it _was_ quite painful on her "test subjects," who were almost always male. That could have been _another_ reason she'd never had a steady boyfriend)

"Well, you know the old tradition," Coiley said. "Whoever catches the bouquet is the next one to get married."

"That's what they say," Phyllis said. "Personally, I don't think there's that much truth to it."

"What makes you say that?" Multi asked.

"I've caught the bouquet about five times in the past two years, and I am nowhere _close_ to getting married," Phyllis said.

There was nothing more that could be said about that, and usually, once the bride tossed the bouquet, the wedding was over. The Impossibles finished up the gig, and they, along with Phyllis, went out to the Impossi-Mobile, and left. Phyllis didn't say much on the ride back home. Coiley dropped her, and Fluey off at their place, and then drove off to drop Multi off at his house.

"Don't sweat it, sis," Fluey said, unlocking the front door. "You're young. You've still got time. I don't think you'll be classified as an old maid for another ten years or so."

"Thank you, Mr. Sensitive," Phyllis said, giving her brother a swat in the shoulder. Fluey just shrugged, he and Phyllis went into the den. Big D was there, reading the newspaper and smoking his pipe.

"Hi, chief," Phyllis said. "We're back."

"How was the wedding?" Big D asked, not even looking up from the paper.

"Okay, I guess," Phyllis said, shrugging. Then she sat down on the couch and took off her high heels.

"You guess?" Big D said, putting down the paper. "What do you mean you guess?"

"I don't know," Phyllis shrugged, tossing her shoes onto the floor, and laying back on the couch. "I guess it reminded me that I'm the only one of my friends who isn't married yet. Okay, so Daisy isn't married, either, but she's got a steady boyfriend. I mean, the old biological clock is ticking here!"

"I'm sure they'll be plenty of time for all of that when you're older," Big D said.

"She's twenty-one now, chief," Fluey said. "How long do you expect her to wait to get married? When she's as old as you? Man, that's practically a lifetime wasted!"

"Watch it, young man," Big D said, shooting his grandson a Look.

"Well, she told me you're the one who's always scaring off her boyfriends," Fluey shrugged.

"Fluid . . . . ." Big D said, in a warning tone.

"Yeah, okay," Fluey said, and he started to leave the room. "I think I'll just, uhh, split now before I end up with my foot in my mouth."

And with that, Fluey retreated up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as he could. Big D sighed, and shook his head.

"I _swear_ I don't know what I'm going to _do_ with that boy!" he shouted.

"But he _does_ have a point," Phyllis said. Then she sighed, stood up, and started for the staircase herself.

"I might as well face the facts, anyway," she said. "I'll probably be single for the rest of my life."


	2. Fender Bender

Monday rolled around at the SSHQ. Phyllis was typing up something on her typewriter when her phone rang.

"Secret Security Headquarters," she said.

"Hi, Phyl, it's me," her friend, Daisy, said. "I know you told me not to call you at work, but I've _got_ to tell you something! Something huge! Can you meet me at Cafe Francois for lunch today?"

"Yeah, sure," Phyllis said. "But what's going on, Daisy?"

"I can't tell you now. I'll tell you at noon."

"All right."

Phyllis hung up the phone and went back to her typing. She hated it when Daisy did things like this. She always had to make a big production out of everything. Noon came along, and Phyllis walked out of the office and down two blocks to Cafe Francois, a little sidewalk cafe where most of Megatropolis's self-proclaimed "hipsters" hung out. Daisy was sitting at a table waiting for her, fidgeting. It appeared she was about to take off any minute.

"Okay, Daisy," Phyllis said, sitting down, and putting down her purse. "What's this all about? And if you don't tell me right now, I'll slug you."

"No you won't!" Daisy shouted, giving Phyllis a gentle shove in the shoulder.

"I might if you don't tell me!" Phyllis shouted. "You're keeping me in suspense! What's going on? Tell me already!"

"Okay," Daisy said, and she tried to compose herself. "I was at the office working, as usual, when suddenly, this delivery guy comes in with this _huge_ bouquet of red roses, and they're for me, and they're from Rick."

Phyllis nodded. Daisy's boyfriend, Rick, was always doing stuff like that. He was a hopeless romantic.

"Anyway, there was a white rose in with all the red roses," Daisy said. "I noticed the white rose looked like it wasn't a real rose, so I pulled it out, and it was plastic. You know what was attached to it?"

"What?" Phyllis asked.

"This!" Daisy shouted excitedly, holding up her hand. On her finger was a diamond ring.

"Rick proposed?" Phyllis asked.

"Yes!" Daisy squealed. "I'm getting married!"

Both Phyllis and Daisy began squealing excitedly then, as well as practically jumping up and down. Of course, they were getting weird looks from everyone at the cafe, as well as various passerby, wondering what in the heck these two weird blond chicks were _do_ing.

"Hey!" a familiar voice shouted. "Why are you two squealing like a couple of little piggies playing in the dirt?"

Phyllis and Daisy stopped squealing and jumping, and turned around. Standing by the cafe railing were the Impossibles, staring at the two girls like they were completely off their rockers. It was Fluey who had made the crack about the piggies (who else?)

"Oh, hi guys," Phyllis said.

"Hi," Coiley said. "So what's all the excitement about?"

"I'm getting married!" Daisy shouted. Then she let out a shriek of excitement.

"Hey, Daisy, if you lost your voice, you'll find it in my ear!" Fluey shouted, cleaning his ear out with his index finger.

"Congratulations," Multi said. "But I think you two might want to hold the excitement down a little. People are starting to stare at you."

"Yeah," Phyllis said, clearing her throat. "Thanks."

"See you around," Coiley said, and the boys left.

"Three, two, one . . . . ." Fluey said, counting down something. Coiley and Multi stared at him, until they heard Phyllis and Daisy began squealing over the news of Daisy's engagement all over again.

After the excitement died down, Phyllis returned to the office, and got back to work. As she was working, Fluey came into the office, and flopped down on the couch.

"Hey, sis," he said.

"Hi," Phyllis said, not bothering to look up from her typewriter.

"I'm kind of surprised at your reaction to Daisy's engagement."

"Well, she _is_ my best friend. Why wouldn't I be excited for her?"

"Yeah, but it just means that now you're the only one of your friends who's still unattached. Are you telling me that doesn't bug you?"

"Not anymore. I've decided to accept the fact that I'm going to be single for the rest of my life."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I am. But if you keep opening your big fat mouth over the subject, _you're_ not going to be okay with it!"

"Gotcha."

And with that, Fluey left the office. He, Multi, and Coiley had some rehearsing to do for a gig, anyway.

That Saturday, Phyllis was at the supermarket of the local Park 'n Shop complex. She finished loading her groceries into the trunk of her pink convertible, climbed into the driver's seat, and began backing out of her parking space. However, she failed to notice the car in the parking space across from hers was backing up as well, and the driver of that car failed to notice Phyllis, and they both ended up colliding with each other.

_WHAM!_

Phyllis let out a scream once she hit, but thankfully, she wasn't hurt. She looked in her rear view mirror to see what she hit. It was a bright red Ferrari. The driver was coming out of the car as she looked. It was a handsome young man with dark brown hair wearing a light blue polo shirt, khakis, and brown Italian loafers. He sported a pair of designer sunglasses, and was talking on a cell phone. He kind of looked like a human Ken doll.

"Oh great," Phyllis groaned, as she opened her glove compartment in order to get her insurance information. "I backed into a rich snob's car. And if he's like most of the stuck up rich people I've met, he'll likely blame _me_ for baking into him because I'm one of those 'crazy women drivers.' What a way to start a weekend."

Phyllis took a moment to get a hold of herself. Once she regained her composure, she came out of the car, and walked over to the rear of it, to inspect the damage to not only her car, but the Ferrari. The guy with the cell phone told whoever he was talking to he had to go, hung up, and put his phone in his pocket.

"Uhh, hi," the guy said, nervously. "Are you okay? Seriously, I am _so_ sorry about this! Guess that'll teach me to talk on the phone while driving, huh?"

"And that'll teach me to watch where I'm going," Phyllis said. "Listen, sorry about your car."

"Oh hey, no problem," the guy said, writing something down on a piece of paper. Once he was done, he handed it to Phyllis. "My insurance will cover it. But in any case, here's my name, my number, and my insurance information in case you need it."

"Thanks," Phyllis said, handing him a piece of paper with her information on it. "Here's my info, in case you need it. And don't worry about paying for the damage to my car. I have a friend who's a mechanic and he usually fixes my car for nothing."

"Okay," the guy said. "I will say this. This is an interesting way to meet somebody, isn't it?"

The guy then got into his Ferrari and drove off. Phyllis then got into her car, and drove off herself. The minute she got home, she called the SSHQ chief mechanic, Mike Rogers at his house (he never worked on the weekends).

"Hi Mike," she said. "I need a favor. I backed into somebody's car at the Park 'n Shop . . . . ."

"And you need me to look at it, right?" Mike asked.

"It's nothing too huge, Mike. I'm sure you could take that sledgehammer of yours and whack the dents right out of it. I mean, it's just cosmetic damage."

"All right. Bring it down to the hangar on Monday and I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Mike, you're the best."

"Yeah I am, aren't I?"

Phyllis laughed and hung up the phone.

Monday rolled around. Mike was hammering out the dents in Phyllis's car, and the Impossibles were watching. They sometimes hung out in the garage when they weren't on duty.

"I've got to teach you guys mechanics," Mike said as he swung his sledgehammer.

"Why's that?" Coiley asked.

"So you can hammer out your own dents," Mike said. "And reconstruct your own car whenever you get it into a wreck!"

The Impossibles had been known around the agency for having their mode of transportation in the hangar more times than any other agent. And Mike _always_ complained about having the fix it.

"But just out of curiosity, Mike," Fluey said. "Why are you fixing Phyllis's car, and complaining about ours?"

"Wise guy," Mike muttered. "I feel sorry for the poor schlub that marries Phyllis. They'd be stuck with _you_ for a brother-in-law."

"Ho, ho," Fluey said, sarcastically.

Mike said nothing, and continued to hammer out the dents.

Later that evening, Fluey was lounging around at home, watching an intense baseball game the TV (it was the Megatropolis Marauders versus the Peoria Pachyderms, the top of the ninth, and a tie score), when the phone suddenly rang. He got up, and grabbed it.

"Hello?" he said. "Yeah, just a sec. Hey Phyllis! Phone!"

"Coming!" Phyllis shouted.

"Who is this, anyway?" Fluey said, going back to the phone for a minute. By that time, Phyllis came into the room.

"Who is it?" she asked, as Fluey handed her the phone.

"Somebody named Raphael Caprezio," Fluey said. "Who is he, anyway?"

"Oh," Phyllis said, taking the phone. "He's the guy I backed my car into Saturday."

"Oh," Fluey said, and started to leave the room, but hung back a little to catch the conversation. Or at least some of it.

"This Friday at seven?" he heard Phyllis ask. "That's fine. Okay, I'll see you then."

And with that, Phyllis hung up. Fluey leaned against the doorway, and stared at his sister.

"What's going on Friday at seven?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, knowingly. "Gotta date?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Phyllis said.

"You know how it's gonna end up," Fluey went on. "You'll date for awhile, Big D will want you to bring him here so he can meet him, he'll grill him, your new boyfriend will get intimidated, and then he's history."

"So what if it does happen?" Phyllis asked, shrugging. "I'm not expecting anything any different from all the other times I've gone out on a date. Besides, sooner or later, one guy I go out with is bound to impress the chief one of these days. You know the old saying, Fluey. First time for everything."

Fluey merely shrugged and went back to the den to catch the end of the ball game.


	3. The First Date

Friday rolled around, the night of Phyllis date with Raphael Caprezio, the "Living Ken Doll" she had backed her car into at the Park 'n Shop. She had spent the entire week trying to think of what to wear. She knew they were going to Cafe Francois, so she decided to just wear what she called "Ol' Reliable," which was a short, sleeveless, little black dress, with matching heels and purse.

Phyllis was at her dresser, brushing her hair. Fluey was laying on his stomach on her bed, watching her.

"How come it takes girls forever to get ready for a date?" he asked. "I always have to leave half an hour before I've planned whenever I take Danalleah to the movies, because she's never ready when I get there."

"I guess that's just one of the mysteries of men and women," Phyllis replied, brushing her hair back behind her ears in order to put on a pair of pearl earrings.

"Did you tell Big D you had a date?" Fluey asked.

"I did," Phyllis replied, as she fastened a single-strand pearl necklace around her neck.

"What'd he say?"

"He didn't say much. He just acknowledged it, and went back to what he was doing before I told him I had a date. Which is what he usually does when I tell him I have a date."

Fluey just nodded. Phyllis finished getting ready just as the doorbell rang. Phyllis went the stairs to answer it. Fluey followed, but at a distance. Instead of going to the front door, he went around to the front hall, and looked out the window. He saw a tall guy with dark brown hair wearing a brown blazer, white shirt, dark blue necktie, gray slacks, and black shoes. He was carrying a small bouquet of what looked like to be a mix of orchids and hibiscuses. Phyllis opened the door, and greeted this guy. Fluey couldn't hear much of the conversation, but he assumed this was Raphael Caprezio. He looked toward the street and saw a red Ferrari parked on the curb.

"The guy's obviously loaded," he said, and he went back to watching the front porch. He saw his sister take the flowers, and then Raphael's arm, and then they walked to his car. Raphael opened the passenger side door first, and Phyllis got in.

"Nice to see that chivalry isn't dead just yet," Fluey commented. "I'll give him points for that."

"What are you doing?" Big D asked, coming into the room. "Spying on your sister?"

"No, not really," Fluey said. "I just wanted to see what this guy looked like."

"What does he look like?"

"He's pretty good looking, and he drives a Ferrari. Probably one of those types that talks about money and stuff like that."

"Hmm. Well, don't wait up for her sitting by the window."

"Sure, chief."

And with that, Fluey went to the den to watch the tube for awhile. Naturally, he wasn't going to wait up for his sister sitting by the window. He was going to wait up for her in the den. He wanted to see how late she was going to come in. Of course, Phyllis (and Big D, for that matter) would probably figure out he was up waiting for Phyllis to come home, but at least Fluey would have an excuse. If she came home after midnight, he could say he was watching _The Late Night Fright Fest Double Feature_ (starring "Count Wolfgang Ammadoggus"). If she came home before midnight, he could always say he was waiting for _The Late Night Fright Fest Double Feature _to come on (he figured both Phyllis and Big D would buy that. He was always sneaking downstairs at midnight to catch the late night horror flicks, which were mainly just what your author refers to as "schlocky B horror pictures" from the 1950's). Besides which, he could kill time by watching State U's basketball team kick a rival college team's rear ends on State U's TV channel.

Hours passed, and Fluey had (as usual during _Fright Fest_) fallen asleep sprawled out on the couch with the TV on. It was eleven forty-five, and all that was on the TV was bars and tones (State U cut their broadcast day at eleven pm, unless a sporting event went _way_ into overtime). He woke up when he heard a car pull up in the driveway, and immediately flipped the TV to channel 8. Some detective show or another was wrapping up, and then _Fright Fest_ would come on. He wanted to make sure he had a good excuse for still being up. Of course, he did this in a mad dash, expecting Phyllis to storm into the house and slam the door, but the only door he heard was a couple of car doors, so he had a little time to relax a bit, so it wouldn't look like he had been rushing to change the channel on the TV. After a few minutes, the front door finally opened, and Phyllis walked into the house. She heard the TV, and went into the den.

"What are you still doing up?" she asked. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"No," Fluey said. "_The Late Night Fright Fest Double Feature_ is showing a couple of great ones tonight. _Attack of the Fifty Foot Bloodhound from Pluto_ and _I Married a Creature From the Black Lagoon Who Was Dracula's Uncle's Cousin's Sister-In-Law from Planet X._"

"I thought I heard the television," Big D said, coming into the room, then he turned to Fluey. "I thought I told you not to wait up for your sister."

"You said not to wait up for her sitting by the window," Fluey said, shrugging. "You never said anything about waiting up for her while watching TV. And I wasn't waiting up for her, chief, I was waiting for _Fright Fest_ to come on."

"You and those late night horror pictures," Big D groaned. Then he turned to Phyllis. "And I take it you had a good night?"

"I did," Phyllis said. "First, we went to Cafe Francois, and we started to get to know each other a little. I found out he's twenty-six, and a stock broker at the Megatropolis Stock Exchange."

"I hope you didn't tell him what line of work you're in," Fluey said.

"No," Phyllis said. "I _did_ say I was a secretary, but I told him I work for my grandfather, who's an insurance agent."

"So where were you all night, anyway?" Fluey asked. "That date of yours started at seven, and you're not back until midnight . . . . . no wait, let me guess. Make Out Point, right?"

"_No_, it wasn't Make Out Point," Phyllis said, glaring at Fluey.

"Be that as it may, I'd like to know where you were, young lady," Big D said, sounding a little perturbed. Even though Phyllis was twenty-one and a legal adult, he still thought of her as his "little girl," and he didn't like the idea of his "little girl" going to a place called "Make Out Point" on the first date with a guy she only met about a week ago.

"I'm getting to it," Phyllis said. "Anyway, after Cafe Francois, we went for a walk downtown, where all the stores have the huge window displays. We passed a pet store, and I just _had_ to stop and look in the windows. The store had two of them, on separate sides. One had puppies in the window and the other had kittens, and I just couldn't pass without looking at them."

"Shawn, Danalleah, and Multi's sister are the same way," Fluey commented. "Show 'em a cute, fuzzy animal, and they melt. I don't get what it is with some chicks and animals."

"Neither do I," Big D replied, shaking his head. "So is that what you were doing for four hours?"

"No," Phyllis said. "We ended up walking into a park, and took in the scenery for awhile, and then Raphael came up with this crazy idea."

"Make Out Point," Fluey said.

"_No_!" Phyllis shouted, swatting her brother in the shoulder. "You know the park as a miniature golf course that's open late, and we passed it on our walk. Raphael turned to me and said, 'hey, how about a quick round of mini-golf?' so we played eighteen holes."

"You played mini golf in your little black dress and heels?" Fluey asked, giving his sister a weird look. "Boy, I bet you guys got a lot of strange glances."

"Only a couple," Phyllis said, shrugging. "There weren't too many people there. So, anyway, after mini-golf, we walked by a movie theater, and they were showing _Gone with the Wind_, so we bought a couple of tickets."

"This wasn't the drive in, was it?" Fluey asked.

"I certainly hope not," Big D said, under his breath.

"_Gone with the Wind_ at a drive in theater?" Phyllis asked. "Fluey, the movie is over three hours! I don't think it'd be popular at a drive in."

"Well, even so," Fluey said, shrugging. "You could probably get some steamy action going in the back of a dark theater."

"Fluey, for Pete's sake, will you _please_ get your mind out of the gutter?" Phyllis shouted. "Nothing happened! After the movie was over, we got back to Raphael's car, and we came back here. He walked me up to the porch, said he had a great time, and that he would call me, and then, he kissed my cheek, and that's all that happened!"

"Okay, okay!" Fluey shouted.

"Now if you two will excuse me, I'm going to bed," Phyllis said. "Goodnight."

And with that, Phyllis went up the stairs to her room.

"I can only hope this doesn't lead to Make Out Point," Big D said. "And I can only hope _you_ don't get any bright ideas about Make Out Point, _or_ the drive in movie theater, either."

"Oh come on, chief!" Fluey shouted. "I was just kidding! Besides, how would you know about stuff like that, anyway?"

"I know what goes through the heads of teenage boys and young adult men. I've been there. I was your age once."

"Heh. I find _that_ hard to believe."

Big D then grabbed the remote control out of Fluey's hand, and turned off the TV.

"Watch it, young man," he warned. "Go to bed."

"All right, all right," Fluey grumbled. "Sheesh, chief, where's your sense of humor?"

Big D didn't answer.

Monday at the office, the date with Raphael was all Phyllis could talk about. She was giving Multi, Coiley, Shawn, FG, and Danalleah the report of her date with Raphael. Fluey was just sitting around, petting Skittles, since he had already heard about the date.

"I never even thought of mini-golf as an idea for a first date," Shawn said.

"It was just so spontaneous," Phyllis said.

"Yeah, Fluey does these spur of the moment things, too," Danalleah said. "Except he's never come up with the concept of mini-golf on a date."

"I'll have to try that idea next time I ask a girl out," Coiley said.

"If you can work up the nerve," Fluey said. Coiley didn't respond.

"Are you going to go out with him again?" Multi asked.

"I might, if he asks," Phyllis said. "He said he'd call me."

"I've heard that one before," FG said. "I don't mean to rain on your parade, Phyllis, but sometimes when a guy says they'll call, they don't. I'm not saying this Raphael guy won't call. I'm just warning you ahead of time."

"I've heard the 'I'll call you' line plenty of times myself, FG," Phyllis said. "I'm not going to get my hopes up."

And with that, the group left the office so Phyllis could get back to work.

"Did you get to meet this guy, Fluey?" Danalleah asked.

"Not yet," Fluey said. "But I _did_ see him."

"What's he look like?" Shawn asked.

"Like a six foot Ken doll," Fluey said. "Seriously, you blend all the major movie heartthrobs together, and they wouldn't be half as good looking as this guy. And he drives a red Ferrari, so he must be rich. I also gave him points for actually ringing the doorbell instead of sitting in his car and honking the horn."

"Yeah, my sister's latest boyfriend does that," Multi said. "Every time Windy has a date with this guy, he sits in his car at the curb, honks the horn, and wakes up my baby brother, and he starts bawling. It drives us all crazy because it takes forever to get Adam back to sleep after we put him to bed!"

"Yeah, and he held the car door open for her, too," Fluey said.

"Nice to see chivalry isn't dead," Shawn said.

"No, it's just been in a coma," Coiley said.

"He sounds like a great guy," Danalleah said.

"I guess," Fluey said, shrugging. "I don't know if they're gonna go out again, but we'll see. All I can say is that this guy is just gonna end up like all the others. I'm actually kind of hoping they'll continue dating. I want to see Big D in action when he chases him off."

"Oh Fluey!" Danalleah groaned, smacking her beau in the shoulder. Fluey merely shrugged.


	4. The Boyfriend Test

As it turned out, Raphael _did_ indeed call back, and he and Phyllis made arrangements for a second date. This one was for Saturday afternoon, and they had made plans to go on a picnic in the park.

"Watch out for Yogi Bear," Fluey teased as Phyllis was making sandwiches.

"Very funny, Fluey," Phyllis said, sarcastically. Fluey laughed, and snatched a cookie from the batch Phyllis had made for her date. Then he noticed what she was wearing for it: a pink and white gingham dress with a pink belt around the waist and white heels.

"Kinda dressy for a picnic, isn't it?" he asked, taking a bite out of the cookie.

"No," Phyllis said, simply, and began packing up the food in the basket. The minute she was finished, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that's probably Raphael," Phyllis said. She grabbed the basket, and went out to the hallway. She opened the door, and there was Raphael, waiting for her.

"Hi," he said. "You look great. Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Phyllis said, and the two of them walked to Raphael's car.

As the days went on, Phyllis's dates with Raphael became more frequent. Big D wasn't complaining about it, though. Phyllis was still as efficient as ever in the office. One evening, Big D and Fluey were in the den, relaxing. Big D was reading the newspaper while Fluey was laying on his stomach on the floor, watching the TV show, _Mission Improbable_. Phyllis was coming down the stairs, wearing a green dress and heels. Big D heard her, and turned to look.

"Another date?" he asked, putting down his newspaper.

"Yeah," Phyllis replied.

"It's starting to get serious with this one, isn't it?" Big D asked.

"Well . . . ." Phyllis said, and she began twirling her hair around her finger. "I guess so . . . . ."

"So when are you gonna bring him over so Big D can grill him?" Fluey asked.

"Oh, the Boyfriend Test again, huh?" Phyllis asked, giving her grandfather a knowing look.

"If you're going to be seeing this young man, then I'd like to meet him," Big D said. "Same as all your other . . . . . potential suitors, let's say."

"Victims is more like it," Fluey quipped.

"Watch it," Big D said, shooting his smart aleck grandson a Look. Before anything else could happen, the doorbell rang.

"Okay," Phyllis said. "I'll talk to Raphael about it tonight."

"Good," Big D said, and he went back to the paper.

Phyllis went to the door and opened it. There was Raphael standing on the porch, ready for their date.

"Hi, Phyllis," he said. "Something wrong?"

"Kind of," Phyllis said. "My grandfather wants to meet you."

"The whole Meet the Parents routine, huh? No problem, I can handle that."

"You don't know my grandfather, Raph. Every single boyfriend I've ever had, he's managed to scare off. He's not very easily impressed."

"I'm sure I can handle it. Just name the day and the time, and I'll be there."

"How about next Friday at six? You can come over for dinner. My grandfather likes to grill my boyfriends over dinner."

"Works for me. No problem at all."

Phyllis wasn't too sure about this. She had the distinct feeling this was going to end up like all the other times she ever brought a boyfriend home. After their date, Raphael parked his car on the curb, got out, opened the door for Phyllis, and walked her up to the porch.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention this about next Friday," she said. "You'll have to contend with something none of my other boyfriends have had to deal with before."

"What's that?" Raphael asked.

"My younger brother. He's sixteen, he's mouthy, he's a wise guy, he's stubborn as a bull, and he can knock you out faster than you can say Muhammad Ali."

"I'll be on my toes, then."

Raphael planted a quick goodnight kiss on Phyllis's cheek, and then walked back out to his car. Phyllis dug her keys out of her purse, and went inside. She walked into the den, and found Fluey laying on the couch, channel surfing.

"Waiting up for me again?" she asked.

"Nah," Fluey said. "I've got two hours to kill until _Fright Fest_. They've got a doozy on tonight. _My Sister is Dating a Lizard Creature from Planet Zee._ I've seen it before, but I still get a kick out of it. Which reminds me. Does this Raphael fella ever talk about taking over the world, or stuff like that? Does he ever leave the table at dinner so he can call his mother ship?"

Phyllis grabbed a pillow off the couch and started hitting her brother with it as hard as she could.

"Hey! Hey! Cut it out, Phyllis! I was just kidding!" Fluey shouted. "Okay, okay, truce! I surrender!"

"What in heaven's name are you two doing?" Big D asked, coming into the room.

"Just typical sibling love," Phyllis said, giving Fluey a final whack with the pillow. "I talked to Raphael about you wanting to meet him. He's coming over for dinner next Friday at six."

"Good," Fluey said. "That'll give Big D enough time to prepare a barbeque pit for when he rakes this guy across the coals!"

"And I assume you warned him about this?" Big D asked, ignoring his grandson

"Yes," Phyllis said. "You know I always warn them ahead of time, ever since you chased off the first two boyfriends I brought home. I also warned him about something none of my other boyfriends had to deal with."

"Ah, yes," Big D said, nodding. "Your brother."

Fluey just shrugged.

Two days later, the Impossibles were rehearsing for a gig on Saturday, and Fluey was giving Multi and Coiley an update about his sister's relationship.

"Phyllis is bringing her boyfriend home Friday," he said. "I can't wait to see what happens."

"Why are you so eager to get this guy out of Phyllis's life, anyway, Fluey?" Coiley asked.

"I'm not," Fluey said. "I just want to see how Big D scares off these guys, that's all."

"He can't do any worse than my dad," Multi said. "If Windy brings home a guy he doesn't like, he won't even let him into the house. He slams the door in his face."

"What kind of guys has she been dating, anyway?" Coiley asked.

"I think she's in a Goth phase or something," Multi said, tuning his guitar. "The guy she's going out with now wears nothing but black, and he writes depressing poetry."

"Well, let us know how everything goes, Fluey," Coiley said.

"Roger Wilco," Fluey said, giving his teammate a small salute, and then the boys got down to music.

Friday, the boys were in the mail room, helping Shawn, FG, and Danalleah sort out the singing Impossibles' fan mail (this is what the girls did at the agency), when Mike walked into the room.

"Hey, Fluey, have you seen Phyllis?" he asked.

"Yeah," Fluey replied, signing a photo of the band and passing it off to Multi (and not bothering to look up at Mike). "She took the day off."

"How come?" Mike asked.

"She's bringing her new boyfriend over for dinner and Big D's gonna grill him," Fluey said. "Heh, heh. I can't wait."

"Sometimes, I wonder about you, kiddo," Mike replied, shaking his head. "So she's got a new boyfriend, huh?"

"Yeah, the guy she backed into at the Park 'n Shop."

"Man, that girl _is_ desperate, isn't she? Goin' out with a guy she literally ran into in a parkin' lot . . . . ."

Fluey just shrugged. That evening at home, Fluey stood in the kitchen doorway and watched his sister racing around the room like a chicken with it's head cut off.

"I don't get why you're going so bananas over this," he said. "You're acting like you're expecting the president or something."

"Very funny," Phyllis said. "I just want things to go well, that's all."

"Do you always get worked up whenever your boyfriend of the moment comes home to meet the family?"

"To tell you the truth, no."

Before either one of them could say another word, the doorbell rang. Phyllis straightened out her dress, and went to answer it. Big D and Fluey followed. this was the moment of truth. Phyllis took a deep breath, and opened the door.

"Hi!" she said, cheerfully, when she saw Raphael standing there, holding a bouquet of irises, violets, orchids, and purple tulips in one hand, and a large shopping bag in the other.

"Hi," Raphael said, handing Phyllis the bouquet. "These are for you. I know how much you like purple flowers."

"Thanks," Phyllis said. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, I brought along a little something for your grandfather and your brother," Raphael said.

"Resorting to bribery, eh?" Big D asked.

"Chief . . . . ." Phyllis said, giving her grandfather a Look. Then she cleared her throat. "Chief, Franky, I'd like you to meet Raphael Caprezio. Raph, this is my grandfather, Davis Dawson, and my brother, Franky."

"Hello, Mr. Dawson," Raphael said, shaking Big D's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"We'll see," Big D replied.

"Yeah, man," Fluey commented.

Raphael then reached into the bag, pulled out a bottle of what appeared to be champaign, and handed it to Big D.

"Since I was coming over for dinner, I thought I'd bring a little something to celebrate this occasion, as it were," Raphael said.

"A very nice gesture," Big D said, looking at the bottle. "But you _are_ aware of the fact we have a member of this household who hasn't reached the legal drinking age yet?"

"Yes, sir," Raphael said. "Phyllis told me Franky was sixteen, so I made sure to get non-alcoholic champaign."

Big D just nodded, and walked toward the kitchen. Raphael then took a flat, square, wrapped package out of the bag. Fluey knew it had to be a record album by the shape.

"I know when I was sixteen, music was my life," Raphael said, handing it to Fluey. "I figured if you're like any other teenager in America, Franky, you like rock 'n roll."

"The understatement of the year," Fluey muttered, taking the gift. He tore into the wrapping paper to see just what exactly the album was. It was the Impossibles' latest release.

"I was at the record store, and this was there as the number one album in the country," Raphael said.

"You don't have to tell me that, I already know!" Fluey shouted. "I can't be_lieve_ this! He gave me a copy of my own album!"

"Eh?" Raphael asked.

"Uhh, yeah," Phyllis said, clearing her throat. "Did I mention Franky's a member of the Impossibles rock group?"

"No, you didn't," Raphael said, calmly.

"She doesn't tell people off the bat because they usually end up falling all over themselves and making themselves look stupid," Fluey said. "That, and she knows I gotta have _some_ privacy in the life I lead."

"Oh," Raphael said, not quite sure if he understood what Fluey was talking about.

"Why don't we go into the dining room and sit down?" Phyllis suggested. "Dinner's almost ready."

Phyllis led Fluey and Raphael to the dining room, and they sat down. Big D was already there.

"So, Mr. Caprezio," Big D said. "Tell me, what is it that you do?"

"I'm a stock broker," Raphael said.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Fluey asked.

"I buy, sell, and trade stocks," Raphael said. "And I give others advice on what shares to buy, when to sell, you know, that sort of thing."

"Frankly, I wouldn't know," Big D said. "I've never saw the need to take unnecessary gambles with the stock market. But getting off the subject, Mr. Caprezio, I _do_ have certain rules that apply to dating my granddaughter."

"Rules?" Raphael asked. "What are they?"

"Number one," Big D said. "I will not tolerate you sitting outside in your car and honking your car horn. Number two, do not touch her inappropriately in my presence. Number three, you will treat my granddaughter with respect. Number four, if she says no, she means no. I don't care about that old 'her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes' excuse. No means no. Period."

"Yes sir," Raphael said. "I understand completely."

"I know Phyllis is an adult. But I was the one who raised her. She's my little girl. No matter how old she gets, she will always and forever be my little girl. I will not allow _any_one to hurt her. If someone _does_ hurt my little girl, I will not hesitate to hurt _them._ If I even _suspect_ you hurt my little girl in the slightest, I will not hesitate to hurt _you_."

"Yes, sir. And you have nothing to worry about. I wouldn't dream of doing anything that would hurt Phyllis."

Big D nodded. That was about all he could do. Normally, Phyllis's boyfriends would start fidgeting about now, and start to become incredibly nervous. But Raphael was calm, and cool as a cucumber.

"Mind if I ask you some questions, Raphael?" Fluey asked, eyeing Phyllis's beau suspiciously.

"Fire when ready," Raphael said.

"What was the last school you went to?" Fluey asked.

"Harvard," Raphael answered. "I graduated from there about five years ago with a three point six grade point average."

"Why not a four point oh?" Fluey asked.

"I didn't do so hot in any of the science courses I was required to take," Raphael said, shrugging. "Science is not my best subject."

"How many girlfriends have you had in your life?" Fluey asked.

"Franky, that's kind of personal, don't you think?" Phyllis asked, giving her brother a dirty look.

"Oh, it's okay, Phyllis," Raphael said. "Excluding Phyllis, only three, and they were all in high school."

"You date high school girls?" Fluey asked.

"Franky!" Phyllis shouted, shooting Fluey another dagger glare.

"No, I meant I was in high school when they were my girlfriends," Raphael said.

"Have you ever been in jail?" Fluey asked.

"Does Monopoly count?" Raphael asked. "If not, then, no, I have never been in jail, and I have never been arrested."

"Do you have any kind of criminal record?" Fluey asked.

"Frank_lin_!" Phyllis hissed, using Fluey's name in the long form.

"No," Raphael said. "The worst trouble I've ever gotten into with the police were parking tickets."

"Have you ever been to Make Out Point?" Fluey asked. In response to that one, Phyllis kicked her brother in the leg under the table. Fluey pretended not to notice.

"Once or twice in high school," Raphael said. "But nothing happened."

"Ever steam up the windows at the drive in movies?" Fluey asked. Again, Phyllis kicked him, a little harder than the first time.

"Again, once in high school," Raphael said. "Or at least I tried to. I ended up getting slapped. Actually, I got slapped every time I took a girl up to Make Out Point back in high school, too. I was pretty immature back then, but I've grown out of it."

"One more question," Fluey said. Phyllis knew what he was going to ask this time. She got up, and walked over behind her brother.

"Shoot," Raphael said.

"Believe me, fella, I'd like to," Fluey said. "Anybody got a shotgun?"

"A_hem_," Big D said, giving his grandson a look. "They'll be none of that now, young man."

"I was just kidding," Fluey said. "Anyway, Raphael. My final question. Have you ever spent an entire weekend alone with a girl in a hotel room and did nothing but . . . . ."

Phyllis immediately clamped her hand over Fluey's mouth, forced him out of his seat, and started to drag him to the kitchen before he could finish that question.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" she asked. Big D and Raphael nodded as Phyllis dragged Fluey into the kitchen, and finally let him go.

"What is the matter with you?" she shouted.

"I'm just trying to dig up some dirt on this guy," Fluey said, shrugging. "I don't like him."

"You're just sore at him because he gave you a copy of an album you and Multi and Coiley recorded yourselves."

"No! It's not because of _that_! I just don't like the guy. I don't trust him."

"Why not? He's perfect!"

"Exactly. He's too good to be true. Isn't there an old saying that goes something like if it's too good to be true, it probably is?"

"Fluey, please. _Please_ don't ruin this for me. Big D hasn't scared him off yet, and I intend to keep it that way."

"All right, all right."

Phyllis and Fluey then returned to the dining room. Then, after dinner, Raphael prepared to take his leave.

"I must admit, Mr. Caprezio, I'm impressed," Big D said. "My granddaughter warned you about my . . . . . expectations, I'm sure."

"Yes sir, she did," Raphael said.

"I warn them all, chief," Phyllis said.

"Yes, I know," Big D said. "And you, Mr. Caprezio, are the first ever _not_ to start heading for the door after I give them the expectations speech."

"I take it most of the guys you've dated done that?" Raphael asked, turning to Phyllis.

"Yes," Phyllis replied. "I'm also sorry about Franky. I had no idea he was going to ask those questions."

"That's okay, Phyllis," Raphael said. "He's just being protective of his big sister. Heck, if I had a sister, I'm sure I'd act the same way."

Phyllis nodded, and she walked Raphael to the door. All in all it had been a good night for her. But Fluey just couldn't seem to shake something. There was definitely something about Raphael Caprezio he didn't like. He just couldn't figure out what it was. But he was determined to find out.


	5. Basketball

"So how did it go last night?" Multi asked, tuning his guitar. It was almost showtime.

"Unfortunately, great," Fluey said, groaning.

"Why is that unfortunate?" Coiley asked.

"Big D was impressed," Fluey said. "Phyllis said it was _really_ hard to impress the chief, but this Raphael Caprezio guy did. I don't know, I just don't like that guy."

"What don't you like about him?" Multi asked.

"I don't know, I just don't like him for some reason!" Fluey shouted. "Phyllis said she was bringing him over for the concert, and she was gonna bring him backstage so you guys could meet him. She's going to introduce him to the girls first, though, considering they'll all be in the audience."

"Just don't do anything stupid on stage," Coiley said.

"Don't worry, I won't," Fluey said. "I'm a professional, remember?"

Coiley didn't say anything. Multi peered through the curtains to check the house. As usual, it was a full house, standing room only. Multi also saw Shawn, FG, Danalleah, and Phyllis talking in the front row (he couldn't hear what they were saying though). He noticed the guy sitting next to Phyllis.

"Is that him?" he asked. Fluey walked over and took a look.

"Yeah, that's him all right," he said. "Raphael Caprezio, the world's only six foot Ken doll."

"Come on, you guys, Coiley said, getting on the band's platform. "Show time."

Multi and Fluey grabbed their guitars, got on their platform, and waited for the curtain to open. Once it did, the only thing that could be heard was thousands of screaming teenage girls, and maybe a little bit of singing if you listened hard enough. Once the concert was over, Danalleah, Shawn, FG, and Phyllis went back stage to see the boys. And, of course, Phyllis had brought Raphael with her.

"Hey, guys," Phyllis greeted the trio.

"So this is him, huh?" Coiley asked, looking at Raphael.

"Yep, this is him," Phyllis said. "Raph, these are Franky's friends, Mark Mills and Calvin Collins. Fellas, this is Raphael."

"Hi," Raphael said, shaking Multi's and Coiley's hands. Multi's puppy, Skittles, walked over to the group, and began sniffing at Raphael, sort of sizing him up.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Phyllis said, and she kneeled down to pet the puppy. "Raph, this is Mark's puppy, Skittles."

"Does he bite?" Raphael asked.

"She," Multi corrected. "And no, she doesn't bite."

"She may growl and snarl at you if she doesn't like you," Fluey said. "But she doesn't bite unless we tell her to."

Phyllis, in response, swatted her brother in the arm. Fluey then turned his attention toward Skittles. She was a pretty good indictor when someone couldn't be trusted. Skittles usually only growled at crooks and the like. If she started growling at Raphael, Fluey would know he couldn't be trusted. He waited for her to react, but she never did. She didn't jump onto Raphael and barrage him with puppy kisses, like she usually did when she encountered a potential friend, either. As a matter of fact, she was looking at him as if she couldn't figure out what to think of him!

"Why is she looking at me like that?" Raphael asked.

"I don't know," Multi said. "I've never seen her do this before. I don't think she's made up her mind about whether or not she likes you, Raphael."

"As long as she's not growling at him, then it's okay with me," Phyllis said. She knew about Skittles's built-in bad guy detector, and she knew Fluey was hoping Skittles would start growling at him, or something. After some chit-chat, Phyllis and Raphael left the concert hall. Skittles just stared after them, her head cocked to one side.

"Well, Skits?" Fluey asked. "Can we trust him or not?"

Skittles just looked up at Fluey, and gave him a shrug, and a bark that clearly said "I don't know, I haven't figured it out yet."

"You're no help," Fluey mumbled.

A week went by. Phyllis was still going out with Raphael, and for some reason, it really bugged Fluey. Though he still couldn't figure out what it was he didn't like about this guy, other than the fact that he was too perfect. _Nobody_ was _that_ perfect!

Fluey was thinking over the whole thing one Saturday while shooting hoops in the driveway, when he heard the sound of a motorcycle pull up. Fluey looked over, and saw a royal blue motorcycle pull up to the curb of the house. The driver wore a blue helmet that matched the color of the motorcycle perfectly, and he was wearing a mechanic's jumpsuit. The driver cut the bike's engine, and took off the helmet, revealing himself to be Mike Rogers.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" Fluey asked.

"Checkin' out the chief's engine," Mike said, pulling a tool box out of a compartment in the cycle. "He called this mornin' and said he was havin' engine trouble, and he asked me to take a look at it. He said he'd rather not bum a ride with Phyllis into work if he can't get his car started."

Fluey nodded. He kind of understood Big D's reasoning. After all, how would it look for the chief of a super secret organization (who was known to be tough as nails, and hard as a rock) to show up to work in a cotton candy pink convertible?

"But why doesn't he just drive his motorcycle?" Fluey asked, as Mike went up to the front porch.

"He keeps that thing at HQ," Mike said. "He told me he doesn't use it unless he has to."

Fluey nodded, and continued shooting hoops while Mike walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Ten minutes later, the garage door opened, and Mike and Big D walked out. Big D popped the hood to his car, and left Mike to work on it.

"I guess being the head of a super secret organization, you don't have to pay for a garage to look at the car, huh?" Fluey said.

"And most of the time, whenever I _do_ take it in, something _else_ goes wrong with it shortly after I get it back," Big D said.

"Yeah, I know a lot of mechanics who are nothin' but con jobs," Mike said. "They fix the problem, but then they go and create _another_ problem just so you have to bring it in again, and pay them more money. Before I was recruited at the SSHQ, I used to work in one of those types of places. They were also an undercover chop shop, but I didn't realize this until _after_ I had left the joint. Best decision I ever made!"

Big D then went back inside the house, Mike went to work on the engine, and Fluey walked over to Mike's blue motorcycle and checked it out.

"Hey, Mike?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Mike asked, not bothering to look up from the hood.

"What's with the license plate on your bike?"

The license plate of Mike's motorcycle read MKL-CKL. It was an odd combination.

"Oh, it's a custom job," Mike said. "It's short for what I call my bike. The Michael-Cycle."

"I take it you tooled it yourself?" Fluey asked. Mike didn't normally name vehicles unless he built them himself.

"Yeah, my first custom," Mike said. "Not only did I need a job to pay my rent, I was also toolin' up this little beaut before Big D hired me."

"Why blue?"

"Why not blue?"

Fluey couldn't argue with that point. He just dribbled the basketball back to the driveway, and continued his one man game, all the while talking to Mike.

"So Phyllis still datin' that guy she rear ended with at the Park 'n Shop?" Mike asked, tightening a bolt in Big D's engine.

"Yeah," Fluey said. "She's hooked on him. I wish she wasn't though."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know, there's something about him I don't like. I just don't know what it is."

"Did Skittles meet him yet? You know she's got a built in radar."

"Yeah, but she didn't react to him. Unfortunately."

"Well . . . . . just 'cause the dog don't react to him doesn't mean he's trustworthy."

"Yeah, that's what I think, too. Personally, I think _you_ oughta ask her out, Mike."

Mike finally looked up from the engine upon hearing _that_. He leaned against the car, and gave Fluey a weird look.

"_Me_ ask her out?" he asked. Then he laughed. "Come on, why would _I_ ask her out?"

"It's obvious you like her," Fluey said. "I can tell. Every time she has even the _small_est problem with that cotton candy car of hers, you drop _every_thing to help her with it. And I know she digs you, too. Why else would she hang out in your garage when you're _not_ fixing her car? So why don't you ask her out, already?"

"Because," Mike said, going back under the hood, "I haven't quite worked up the nerve to ask her out yet, that's why I don't ask her out already, Fluey."

"Come on, man, why not? I think you two are _perfect_ for each other!"

"Get serious, Fluey. She'd never go out with a guy who smells like motor oil and exhaust fumes all the time. I know her type. Phyllis is a lady, and I'm the tramp."

"Yeah, well, it's nothing a few weeks of personal hygiene improvement won't fix."

"Don't push it, fella."

Fluey went back to shooting baskets, when Phyllis came outside to see what was going on.

"Hi, guys," she said. "What's going on?"

"Nothin' much," Mike said, not looking up. "Just fixin' the chief's car. He called me 'cause he said he had engine trouble."

Mike then looked up at Phyllis, and nearly did a double take. He saw that she was wearing an old gray sweatshirt that had seen better days, faded blue jeans rolled up at the cuffs, white socks, and brown loafers, and her hair was up in a ponytail.

"What's the matter?" Phyllis asked.

"Uhh, nothin'," Mike said, clearing his throat. "I'm just not used to seein' you lookin' like . . . . . I mean, all I've ever seen you wear are those tweed skirts and sweater sets."

"You, and the rest of the agency," Phyllis said. "It took Fluey awhile to get used to me having the slob look outside the office."

Mike just nodded, and went back to the engine. Phyllis walked over to Fluey.

"So where are the guys?" she asked.

"Coiley's stuck baby-sitting his sister and I don't know what Multi's excuse is," Fluey said. "He's probably out with Shawn or something. He wasn't home when I called him."

"Can't be much fun shooting hoops by yourself."

"It isn't."

"How 'bout some one-on-one, then?"

"You any good?"

"I'll show you."

And with that, Phyllis took the ball, and began a one-on-one session with her brother, while Mike tinkered with Big D's engine. He just finished it up and shut the hood when a red Ferrari pulled up to the curb.

"Oh _no_," Fluey groaned.

"That the guy you've been datin', Phyllis?" Mike asked.

"Mr. Perfect himself," Fluey said. "What's _he_ doing here?"

"I don't know," Phyllis said, shrugging. "Oh, Mike, do me a favor, and start calling Fluey 'Franky' around Raphael. And if Multi and Coiley are around, it's Mark and Calvin. I haven't told Raph about the SSHQ."

"Check," Mike said.

Raphael got out of his car, and walked up the driveway toward Phyllis.

"Hi," he said, as he gave her a kiss.

"Hi, yourself," Phyllis said. "What are you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd drop over and see if you were interested in a movie," Raphael said.

"Movie?" Phyllis repeated. "Oh geez, I'd like to, Raph, but I don't think I'll have time to pull myself together. I'm kind of a mess right now."

"I don't think so," Raphael said. "I think you look pretty no matter what the situation."

"Would that include stuff you'd find in _Playboy_?" Fluey asked. Phyllis glared at him for that one.

"Uhh, no," Raphael said. "Only because I haven't seen her . . . . . well, you get the drift."

"Unfortunately," Mike said. "Leave it to Franky to ruin the moment."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Phyllis said. "Raph, this is my friend, Mike. Mike, this is Raphael."

"You're her mechanic friend, right?" Raphael asked, shaking Mike's hand.

"What tipped you off?" Fluey asked, going back to the basketball hoop. "Come on, Phyllis, we were in the middle of a game!"

"Yeah, I'll have to take a rain check on the movie, Raph," Phyllis said. "I think Franky wants some 'quality time' as it were."

"No problem," Raphael said. "I'll just hang out and watch if that's okay with you."

"Only if it's okay with you if we pretend your face is the backboard," Fluey said.

"Franklin . . . . ." Phyllis said, in a warning tone.

Fluey didn't say anything, he just passed the ball to his sister, and they continued their one-on-one game, while Mike and Raphael sat and chatted with each other.

"You seem awfully familiar to me," Mike said, looking over Raphael. "Have we met before?"

"No, I don't think so," Raphael said.

"What high school did you go to?"

"Megatropolis High."

"College?"

"Harvard."

"Have you ever worked in auto mechanics?"

"No way. I don't have the slightest idea what the heck goes into a car!"

"Mind if I look over your car?"

"Be my guest."

Mike stood up, and walked to the Ferrari, just looking it over. He made a mental note to check the license plate number when he got a chance.

"This is a nice car," he said. "You got the registration papers to go with it?"

"What are you, an undercover cop or something?" Raphael asked.

"Ferraris don't come cheap, fella," Mike said. "I want to see some proof of ownership here. Unless of course you got somethin' to hide."

"What? You think I stole the car?"

"I didn't say that. Just let me see the registration, along with your license. And I ain't buyin' the old I left 'em it my other pants excuse."

Raphael said nothing, and he opened the glove compartment of his car. He took out the registration papers, and handed them to Mike, along with his driver's license. Mike looked them over, and nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Everythin' seems to be on the up and up with this car of yours. Just one more question."

"Okay," Raphael said.

"Are you familiar with Dusty's Auto Repair?"

"Yeah, I took a car there once. Not the Ferrari, another one. But once the problem was fixed, I found another one, and when that one was fixed, something _else_ went wrong, so I sued the place. I later found out it was a chop shop in disguise."

Mike nodded. He figured that was probably where he had seen Raphael before, considering that was the garage he used to work at (that was the undercover chop shop), but somehow, he wasn't sure if that was right or not.

"Hey, Phyllis!" Raphael called. "How 'bout letting me in on the game?"

"Two against one?" Fluey asked.

"I don't think that's fair," Phyllis said. "Unless . . . . . Mike, do you play basketball?"

"Yeah, a little bit," Mike said. "I haven't played since high school, so I'm a little rusty. So what is this, two-on-two?"

"Yeah, you and me versus Phyllis and Mr. Perfect," Fluey said.

"I read ya loud and clear, kid," Mike said.

Within minutes, the game was underway, and Fluey and Mike were wiping up the court with Phyllis and Raphael. Mike knew all the moves, as well as some trick shots.

"Eat your hearts out, Harlem Globetrotters," he said, giving Fluey a high five.

"Yeah man!" Fluey shouted.

"Okay, okay," Raphael said, breathlessly. "You guys win. I'm wiped."

"Where'd you learn those moves, Mike?" Fluey asked.

"High school," Mike said, spinning the basketball on his index finger. "I was captain of the basketball team."

"How come you didn't tell us that?" Raphael asked.

"You didn't ask," Mike said, bouncing the ball to Fluey.

"Great," Raphael said. "Well, time for me to hit the showers. I'll call you later, Phyllis."

"Okay," Phyllis said, and she and Raphael kissed each other goodbye. Fluey made sort of a gagging noise in his throat at this.

"My sediments exactly," Mike said, giving Raphael the Evil Eye as he walked over to his Ferrari. "I don't like him at all."

"Finally!" Fluey shouted. "Somebody's on _my_ side of things!"

"Oh, Fluey!" Phyllis groaned. "So what's _your_ problem with him, Mike?"

"I don't know," Mike said. "He just seems so . . . . . so _phony_, that's all. I don't know why, but I just _know_ I've seen him somewhere before, but I can't place it!"

"_America's Most Wanted_, maybe?" Fluey suggested.

"I give up," Phyllis said, and then she walked into the house.

"I'd better get goin' myself," Mike said, walking over to his bike. "This calls for a little investigatin'. Otherwise, it's gonna drive me bananas tryin' to think where I've seen this guy before."

"If you find anything, Mike, let me know," Fluey said.

"Will do. See you around, kid."

And with that, Mike put on his helmet, started up his bike, and practically roared down the street. Fluey started back inside himself, dribbling the basketball along the way.

"I still think Mike should ask Phyllis out," he said. "She's wasting her time with Mr. Perfect, who I bet isn't even all that he's cracked up to be!"


	6. Meet the Parents

In the coming weeks, Phyllis and Raphael were practically growing inseparable. He sometimes dropped over for dinner every now and again. One evening, while she was preparing dinner, Fluey walked into the kitchen, and noticed she seemed happier than normal. She was cooking out of several pots and pans, and was singing the Crystals' "Then He Kissed Me" under her breath.

"Hi, sis," he said. "What's cooking?"

"Something special," Phyllis said, putting something in the blender. "I've got big news."

"Mr. Perfect isn't coming over again, is he?" Fluey asked.

"No, he isn't. It's just the three of us."

Fluey didn't say anything. He opened the oven door a little to see what was cooking, and suddenly slammed it shut again.

"Yeeeccchhh!" he shouted. "What the heck _are_ you cooking, anyway?"

"Coq au vin," Phyllis said, as she sliced a baguette.

"Run that by me again?" Fluey asked, giving his sister a weird look.

"It's French," Phyllis said, taking the blender and pouring whatever it was she stuck in there in a small bowl. "It's basically chicken and vegetables cooked in red wine. It's the chief's favorite."

"But it smells _awful_!"

"That's mainly because you're spoiled with pizza, burgers, and French fries. You don't appreciate gourmet cooking."

Fluey didn't respond. He also learned Phyllis was planning the whole meal with French food. She had just put a hunk of goose liver paté in the blender. The thought of it kind of turned his stomach a little.

"What's say we order pizza?" he suggested.

Phyllis shot him a dirty look, and went back to cooking. She had finished preparing the meal and setting the table when Big D returned home from the office.

"Glad you're here, chief," Fluey said. "Gotta gas mask on you?"

"One more crack like that, and I'll crack _you_, Fluey!" Phyllis called from the kitchen.

"I may have to start regretting I disclosed the other family secret to you two," Big D said, rolling his eyes. "It now only means I have to put up with sibling rivalry."

"Both Multi _and_ Coiley say fighting is how brothers and sisters show affection," Fluey shrugged.

Big D said nothing, and looked at the dining room table.

"Quite a spread," he commented. "What's the occasion?"

"I've got big news," Phyllis said. "And I wanted to make sure you'd be in a good mood before I spring it on you, chief."

"Big news, eh?" Big D asked.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Fluey asked, suspiciously.

"_No_," Phyllis said, glaring at her brother. "Fluey, I swear, you are just so im_poss_ible!"

"You're just finding that out, now?" Fluey asked, giving his sister a look.

"All right, all right, that's enough," Big D said. "So what's this big news of yours?"

"Okay," Phyllis said, clearing her throat. "Raphael asked me to go steady."

"Steady?" Fluey repeated. "Oh great. Just great. Now we'll be seeing even _more_ of Mr. Perfect!"

"I don't understand why you don't like him, Fluey," Phyllis said. "He's a perfectly nice guy!"

"That's what they said about Jack the Ripper," Fluey mumbled.

"I heard that!" Phyllis shouted.

"That's enough," Big D said, trying to restore a little order. "So you're going steady, eh? Never thought I'd live to see the day that would happen."

"Considering you chase away all her boyfriends," Fluey commented. "I'm surprised you haven't done it with a shotgun yet."

"That's quite enough out of you, young man," Big D said. Then he sighed. "Be glad I don't try to scare off your girlfriend. Honesty, I wish you kids would meet someone I'd actually _like_."

"Eh?" Fluey said. "You mean to tell me you don't like Danalleah, chief?"

"Not especially," Big D admitted. "I don't approve of your relationship with her. And I don't necessarily approve of you dating this Raphael Caprezio person, Phyllis, but I realize if I tried to forbid you from seeing him, and if I forbade you to see Danalleah Critch, Fluid, I'd only end up with a couple of _Romeo and Juliet_ scenarios, which is the _last_ thing I want."

Fluey didn't say anything. Things were quiet for a few moments, and then Phyllis cleared her throat again.

"There's actually more," she said.

"I can't wait to hear _this_," Fluey muttered. Phyllis ignored him.

"Raphael invited me over to his parents' house next Sunday for dinner," she continued. "And he wants me to bring you two along. He said his parents really want to meet you two."

"Hmm, it _is_ getting serious between you two, isn't it?" Big D asked.

"Can we get an assignment for that night, chief?" Fluey asked. "Or schedule a gig or something?"

"No," Big D said, flatly. "If I'm going, then you're going. End of discussion."

"Geez . . . . ." Fluey groaned. "What a time for crime to be slow."

Neither Big D, nor Phyllis, paid any attention to him.

A couple of days later, all three Impossibles were in Mike's garage, watching him fiddle with an engine, while Fluey was giving them an update.

"So now they're going steady, and she wants to drag Big D and me with her to meet Mr. Perfect's parents," he said. "Have you been able to find anything about him, Mike?"

"Unfortunately, no," Mike said, tightening a bolt.

"He seemed all right to me," Multi said, shrugging. "I don't understand what the problem is, Fluey."

"He's just _too_ perfect," Fluey said. "He's got to be covering up something. I just don't know what."

"I think you've been in this business too long, Fluey," Coiley said. "You're suspicious of _every_body these days."

Fluey didn't answer.

Sunday rolled around, and Fluey, Phyllis, and Big D were heading for the ritzy part of Megatropolis to meet Raphael's parents. And Fluey was not looking forward to this one little bit.

"I kind of had a feeling he was a rich snob," he said. "His parents are probably snobs, too."

"Fluey, he is _not_ a rich snob!" Phyllis shouted. "Would it kill you to look at this situation with a positive attitude?"

"Maybe," Fluey said.

"Chief . . . ." Phyllis said, throwing her grandfather a pleading look. Big D sighed.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Fluid, but please, behave yourself," he said. "As a favor to your sister."

"Oh all right," Fluey said, grudgingly.

"Promise you won't ask any personal questions, or bring up any uncomfortable subjects."

"Aw, geez, chief, what do you take me for?"

"Just promise it, young man."

"All right, all right, I promise no personal questions, and no bringing up uncomfortable subjects."

Big D parked the car at the curb, and he, Fluey, and Phyllis got out, and walked up to the large mansion. Phyllis straightened out her skirt, and rang the doorbell. Raphael answered it a few minutes later.

"Hi," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Phyllis said. She walked in, and Big D and Fluey followed her. Raphael led them down a long hallway to a den of sorts, featuring two large sofas, a pool table, a state of the art entertainment system, and a fully stocked bar. There was a man and a woman sitting on one of the sofas. They stood up when Raphael entered the room.

"They're here!" Raphael announced. "Mom and Dad, I'd like you to meet Phyllis Dawson, her grandfather, Mr. Davis Dawson, and her brother Franky. Guys, these are my parents, Mario and Francesca Caprezio."

"Mario and Francesca Caprezio," Fluey repeated. "Italian descent, I take it?"

"That's right," Mr. Caprezio said.

_That figures_, Fluey thought to himself, but he didn't say it out loud (though he wanted to).

"Well, let's not just stand around here," Mrs. Caprezio said. "I hope you all are hungry."

Raphael and his parents led Phyllis, Fluey, and Big D to their dining room, and they all sat down.

"I hope you like spaghetti," Mrs. Caprezio said, smiling.

"Spaghetti?" Fluey said. "Ick."

"What's wrong with spaghetti?" Phyllis asked, shooting her brother a dirty look.

"Nothing," Fluey said. "It's just that ever since the Manikatti incident, I've sworn off of Italian food."

"Then explain the four slices of pepperoni pizza you ate after Friday's gig at the pizza parlor," Phyllis said.

Fluey glared at his sister, and said nothing.

Once Mrs. Caprezio served dinner, she and her husband got into a conversation with Big D, while Phyllis and Raphael talked. Fluey wasn't paying any attention to either conversation. He was too busy scrutinizing Raphael's parents. They looked young. Both had dark hair and dark eyes, and they looked like they were in their mid forties, maybe a little younger, he wasn't sure. As a matter of fact, Fluey thought they looked a little young to be the parents of a twenty-six-year-old. For all he knew, Mario and Francesca Caprezio might have been teenagers when Raphael was conceived, but he wasn't going to bring that up. After all, he made a promise to the chief and his sister, and if he broke it, he'd be in _big_ trouble. He also noted that Raphael didn't look like either of his parents whatsoever. There was no resemblance at all. But that didn't necessarily mean anything. Raphael could have been adopted. Either that, or he could look like someone in his extended family. He knew FG looked nothing like either of her parents, but she was the mirror image of her maternal grandmother. Genetics were weird.

"You're awfully quiet over there, Franky," Mrs. Caprezio said.

"Huh?" Fluey asked, snapping to attention.

"This is a switch for him," Phyllis said. "Usually, we can't get him to shut up."

"That's because he in_sists_ on being the center of attention," Big D commented.

"Come on, chief, I do _not_!" Fluey shouted.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask . . . . ." Raphael said. "Phyllis, why do you and Franky call your grandfather 'chief'? I call mine Gramps."

"Well . . . . ." Phyllis said, trying to think of an excuse.

"'Cause he's chief of the family, you know?" Fluey said, quickly. "I mean . . . . . since we live with him, and all . . . . ."

"If you don't mind me asking," Mr. Caprezio said. "Why don't you live with your parents, Franky?"

"Because they're dead," Fluey said, shrugging. "Both sets."

"Beg pardon?" Mrs. Caprezio asked.

"Long story," Phyllis said. "_Very_ long, _and_ complicated story!"

"Yeah," Fluey said. "I'm not gonna go into it, 'cause we'll be here all night. All I can tell you, though, is our dad was murdered. By an _Italian_ mob boss."

"Franklin . . . . ." Big D said, in a warning tone.

"They're the ones who asked, chief!" Fluey protested.

"Please forgive my brother," Phyllis said, turning to Raphael's parents. "He's . . . . . a bit uneasy with me dating Raphael."

"Ahhh, I see," Mr. Caprezio said, nodding. Then he lowered his voice. "I think I know the problem. I have an older sister myself, and I acted the same way when she was dating. Though I was a bit younger than Franky. I wouldn't worry too much about it, Phyllis. I think he's just a little J-E-A-L-O-U-S that you're spending so much time with a new boyfriend."

"I heard that, and I am _not_ jealous!" Fluey shouted.

After that, Fluey decided to keep his mouth shut, mainly because he figured Phyllis would start kicking him under the table, like she did when she brought Raphael home for dinner for "The Boyfriend Test."

A week had passed, and it didn't look like "Mr. Perfect" would be out of the Dawsons' lives any time soon, much to Fluey's dismay. And he absolutely hated it. He gave the others an update while Mike was giving them a "lesson" in auto shop, using a wreck that had been salvaged by another agent

"You're still hung up on this, aren't you, Fluey?" Mike asked, as he helped Multi tighten a bolt in the engine.

"Look, I just think something's up," Fluey said. "I just haven't figured it out yet. Besides which, Mr. Perfect's parents looked too young to even _be_ his parents."

"I've got two words for you, Fluey," Multi said. "Plastic surgeon. My mother's been to several up in Maine."

"How frequently?" Coiley asked.

"Let's just say they did less work on Mount Rushmore than the surgeons on my mother," Multi replied. Coiley, Fluey, and Mike got the gist right away. "In any case, Fluey, that's probably why they look too young to you. Wealthy women tend to do that sort of thing. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience. The minute my mother even _thinks_ she's showing signs of aging, she makes an appointment with her plastic surgeon."

"You're mom's a rich snob, Multi?" Mike asked.

"Well, sort of," Multi said, shrugging. "A couple of years after she and my dad got divorced, she married a rich guy, so . . . . . actually, come to think of it, I think my stepfather also goes in for plastic surgery. Not as often as my mother, but . . . . ."

"Yeah, okay, I get the point," Fluey said.

"Personally, I think you don't like the guy because he's Italian," Coiley said.

"Hey, man, after the Manikatti incident, I am _never_ trusting another Italian for as long as I live!" Fluey shouted.

"But, Fluey, you _are_ half Italian," Multi pointed out.

"Who's side are you on, anyway?" Fluey shouted, losing his patience.

"Hey, Fluey, chill," Mike said. "Okay? Just calm down. I don't like this guy, either, but there's nothin' we can do about it. At least not until I can manage to dig up some dirt."

"Have you ever figured out where you saw him before, Mike?" Coiley asked.

"No, and it's gonna drive me out of my mind," Mike said.

"I hope you can come up with something soon, Mike," Fluey said. "Meeting the parents is _never_ a very good sign. Right, Coiley? Didn't your sister get married shortly after her husband introduced her to his parents?"

"Yeah," Coiley said. "But I think you're blowing this out of proportion. I think Raphael's father had a point."

"What, you guys think I'm jealous of my sister's boyfriend?" Fluey asked.

"Yes," both Multi and Coiley said in perfect unison.

"Thanks a _lot_," Fluey said, glaring at his friends.

In order to restore a little peace, Mike changed the subject, and went back to showing the boys the anatomy of an automobile, and he forbade them to discuss anything about Raphael Caprezio for the rest of the session.

A few months later, the Impossibles, Big D, Phyllis, and the girls had been invited out to dinner by Raphael and his family. They went to a casual place, where it happened to be karaoke night, so the group had to sit through several people butchering classic songs.

"I hope none of our songs is in that machine," Fluey groaned, cringing at an incredibly _bad, _and _way_ off key rendition of Chubby Checker's "The Twist."

"That would be pretty humiliating," FG commented. "Can you imagine somebody singing one of your songs badly in front of total strangers?"

After this guy was done mutilating "The Twist," (which he only got a _very_ half-hearted round of applause for) Shawn, FG, and Danalleah got up, and took the stage.

"What are they up to?" Big D asked.

"They're probably going to sing," Multi said, shrugging.

"I hope they're better than some of these people we've heard already," Raphael commented.

The music started, and the girls swung into a rendition of the Supremes' "Stop in the Name of Love," and they added some choreography to the mix.

"I wonder how long they've been rehearsing this?" Coiley asked.

"This explains the singing I've been hearing every time I pass the mail room," Phyllis commented. When the girls were finished, they got a _huge_ round of applause (as well as a couple of wolf whistles), and then they returned to the table.

"You girls were great!" Fluey shouted. "We'll have to take you along on our next tour as our opening act."

"Thanks," Danalleah said. "We've been _dying_ to show you our act, but we haven't found the chance to until now."

"Well, that was a great surprise," Phyllis said.

"Speaking of surprises, I've got one for you, too, Phyllis," Raphael said. Then he stood up, and walked over to the stage. The opening chords of the Associations' "Cherish" came out of the speakers, and Raphael began singing. Then, he started to walk toward the table, still singing. The group figured he already knew the song by heart, and didn't need the lyric screen. Once the song was over, people began applauding, but Raphael held up his hand to stop them.

"Hold your applause, please, folks," he said. "There's more to come. The song I just sang is dedicated to a very special lady. The most beautiful, charming, perfect lady I have ever had the pleasure of being with. I cherish all the time we have already spent together, and hope that there will be many more moments with her to cherish. She is the person I've been waiting my entire life for."

Raphael then got down on one knee in front of Phyllis, and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it, and held it up to Phyllis. Inside was a diamond ring.

"Phyllis Marie Dawson," Raphael said, directly into the microphone. "Will you marry me?"

Phyllis didn't know what exactly to say just then. She knew all eyes were on her, waiting for her to answer, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Finally, she took the microphone.

"Yes," she managed to say. "Yes, Raphael, I'll marry you."

The entire restaurant burst into applause and cheers (and a few collective "awwwws" here and there). FG, Danalleah, and Shawn began squealing excitedly, and they swarmed around Phyllis to see the rings. There was a lot of hugging, a lot of handshaking, and a lot of congratulating going on. Fluey just sat there. He was not getting into the spirit of things, that was for sure, but nobody noticed. They were all too preoccupied with the proposal. Fluey just gave Raphael a look, practically glaring daggers at him. There was no way in the world he was going to allow this rich Mr. Perfect so-and-so marry his sister.


	7. Operation Sabotage Round 1

Since the night of Raphael's proposal, the upcoming wedding was all any of the female population of the SSHQ could talk about (though there weren't all that many women on the staff, anyway). And it looked like Fluey was the only one not thrilled with the idea. Three days later, he stormed into the SSHQ garage. Mike was so engrossed in an experimental engine he was developing, he didn't even notice, until Fluey made his presence known.

"Mike!" he yelled.

"Ow!" Mike shouted, as he straightened up, a little too soon, and banged his head on the open hood.

"Sorry," Fluey said.

"What is it, Fluey?" Mike asked, rubbing the top of his head. "I'm busy here."

"I need an update on the Caprezio progress," Fluey said, as Mike went back to the engine. "Pronto!"

"Still nothin'. I can't find out anythin', and it's startin' to bug me. I _know_ I've seen him before, but I can't for the life of me think of where!"

"Are you gonna drop it?"

"No, not until I find somethin'. Which is gonna be easier said than done by this point."

"Well . . . . you'd better hurry and find something before it's too late!"

"What do you mean before it's too late?"

"Phyllis and Mr. Perfect are getting married."

Mike stood up a little too fast once more, and banged his head on the hood again.

"Ow!" he yelled. "I gotta quit doin' that. Run that by me again, would ya?"

"I said Phyllis and Mr. Perfect are getting married," Fluey said. "Tying the knot. Getting hitched. The ol' ball and chain routine."

"Yeah, okay, I get the point. Are you _sure_ about this?"

"Positive. Just as Multi, Coiley, and the girls. Heck, you can even ask Phyllis herself! We were all there! Mr. Perfect proposed in public, and there were at least fifty witnesses! She just _can't_ marry this guy!"

"I know, but the trouble is, I don't think there's anythin' we can do about it. I need to do an extensive search in order to dig up the dirt on this guy, but the problem is I've got too much to do around here to do that."

"And by the time you _do_ find something, it might be too late."

Mike nodded, and went back to the car engine. Fluey just sat there and watched him, thinking about the whole mess. After awhile, he went back upstairs to the chief's office, and found Shawn sitting at Phyllis's desk.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Hello to you, too," Shawn said. "The chief asked me to fill in as secretary. Phyllis is too preoccupied planning her wedding to concentrate on her job. I tell you, Fluey, she's really on cloud nine."

"Unfortunately."

"I don't understand what your problem is with Raphael, Fluey. He's a perfectly nice guy! He's sweet, he's charming, he knows how to treat a lady . . . . ."

"Yeah, that's the way it is with most serial killers. Then, when they least expect it . . . . . _chk-k-k-k-k-k!_"

Fluey made a slashing motion across his neck with his finger upon saying that, to prove his point. Shawn did not even reply. She just went back to the typewriter. Fluey flopped down on the couch and sighed. This was going to be a long day, he could tell.

That evening, Phyllis was making out several lists at the dining room table, and Fluey was watching her.

"You're not actually going to plan this thing yourself, are you?" he asked. "Coiley said his oldest sister tried that when she got married and she came ex_treme_ly close to having a nervous breakdown."

"Fluey, I'm trying to concentrate," Phyllis said, ignoring the comment.

"Isn't it tradition for the bride's family to pay for the wedding?" Fluey asked. "You think Big D is gonna go for that? You know how expensive these things can get, and the chief may not want to pay for all of this."

"Don't worry about it," Phyllis said, not bothering to look up from her lists. "I can handle it."

"Are you absolutely _sure_ you want to go through with this thing? I mean, I know you're desperate and all, but getting married to a guy you smacked into in a parking lot . . . . . ."

"Fluey, _please_! I'm trying to get some work done here. The last thing I need is my baby brother trying to sabotage my wedding! Now would you please find something else to do? I'm busy!"

Without a word, Fluey got up, and left the dining room. He went out to the garage, picked up his basketball, and began shooting hoops in the driveway.

"Baby brother," he muttered. "Since when does she refer to me as her baby brother?"

Fluey tossed the ball toward the hoop, and it bounced off the backboard, missing the hoop completely. Fluey did this a couple of times, imagining the backboard was Raphael's face.

"The last thing I need is my baby brother trying to sabotage my wedding," he said, in a mocking tone. He dribbled the ball a little, and tossed it at the hoop. That's when he got an idea.

"Sabotage the wedding," he said. Then he smiled. "Yeah . . . . . yeah! That's perfect! If I can sabotage the planning, maybe Phyllis will get so frustrated, she'll call the whole thing off!"

Fluey didn't get a chance to start his little "project" (which he called "Operation: Sabotage") until a couple of weeks later. It was a typical Saturday morning. Phyllis was cooking eggs and bacon in a skillet on the stove, Big D was drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper, and Fluey was perusing the comic section of the paper while waiting for Phyllis to get finished cooking breakfast. It was pretty quiet, until the phone rang.

"Who would be calling at this hour?" Big D asked.

"I don't know," Phyllis said, shrugging. "I'll go answer it."

Big D nodded, and took over at the stove while Phyllis went to the phone. All Fluey could pick up was Phyllis's side of the conversation.

"Hello?" she said, once she picked up. "Sammi, hi! What are you doing calling this early?"

Fluey recognized the name. "Sammi" was Samantha Curan, one of Phyllis's friends. She was an up and coming fashion designer, and she had agreed to design and make Phyllis's wedding gown.

"Really?" Phyllis asked. "So soon? Oh, I get what you mean. So how close is it? Uh huh. Okay, I'll be down around ten or ten fifteen. Okay, thanks. See you then. Bye."

Phyllis hung up, and went back to the stove.

"Who was that?" Big D asked.

"Sammi," Phyllis said. "She needs me to come down to her place to make sure the dress fits."

"She's finished with it already?" Fluey asked.

"Not quite yet," Phyllis said. "That's why she needs me to come down and try it on, so she can make some alterations on it."

"The fact that she's done with it already is mind boggling," Fluey said.

"Well, she doesn't have a very busy schedule," Phyllis said, shrugging. "After all, she's not a famous fashion designer yet."

Fluey nodded, and that was about it. But what his sister said gave him an idea. Later that day, he went downtown with Phyllis to Samantha's "salon." After Phyllis introduced the two of them, she and Samantha got right down to business about the gown. They went toward a large folding screen where Phyllis got change into the dress (Samantha's shop wasn't big enough for dressing rooms). While Phyllis and Samantha talked over the dress, Fluey looked around the place. There were at least five dress maker's dummies, three sewing machines, an ironing board that folded into the wall, and large mirrors all over the place. Needles, threads, scissors, seam rippers, and the like were scattered on every table surface, and pencils and papers were scattered everywhere. Fluey picked up a few of the papers and began to look through them. They were sketches of outfit designs Samantha had drawn. And they were pretty good. It gave Fluey an idea. He, Multi, and Coiley had a lot of pull in the entertainment world. He thought maybe he could pull a few strings on a reality TV show he knew that was always looking for up and coming fashion designers.

"Hey, Sam!" he called out, placing some of Samantha's sketches inside his jacket. "Mind if I use your phone? I've got to make a phone call."

"Help yourself, Franky!" Samantha called from the back of the room.

Fluey then ran to Samantha's phone, and called the operator to get the contact information of this reality show. Once he got the phone number of the producer's secretary, he wrote it down. He wasn't going to make a long distance phone call to Hollywood on Samantha's phone. He'd wait until he got home.

Once home, Fluey made sure Big D wasn't around, and he grabbed the phone. To make sure he wasn't going to get caught red handed, he took the phone into the hall closet, and made a call to Hollywood.

"Hello, is this the production company of _Fabulous Fashion_?" he asked. "My name's Franky McAlister of the Impossibles, and . . . . ."

Before Fluey could go on, the person he was talking to let out a delighted (not to mention very loud) squeal. Fluey had to hold the phone away from his ear for a moment. Once the person on the other end calmed down, Fluey went back to his proposition.

"Listen, I've got the perfect up and coming designer for your show," he said. "I'll send you some of her sketches ASAP, and we'll see how it goes from there, okay? Oh, one more thing, don't mention _any_thing about me, or my bandmates to her if she gets chosen. See, she's a friend of my sister's, and I don't want them to think she's only on the show because I pulled strings and like that."

Once Fluey hung up, he crawled out of the closet, and walked into Big D's home office. He fired up the chief's fax machine, and sent the sketches to the _Fabulous Fashion_ people, along with Samantha's contact information. Now all he had to do was wait.

A week later, a letter came in the mail for Phyllis. It was from Samantha, bit it was postmarked from California.

"Phyllis, I'm _so_ sorry, but I got a call from the producer of _Fabulous Fashion_," Phyllis read out loud. "They want _me_ to be on the show. Can you believe it? It's my dream come true! Unfortunately, they needed me to bring a finished design, and the only thing I had ready was your dress. I know this is sudden, but I've _got_ to follow my dreams. See you in six months, and I _really_ hope you can forgive me for this. Sam."

"Problem, sis?" Fluey asked, acting like he didn't know anything about this.

"Yeah, Sam took off to Hollywood to be on _Fabulous Fashion_," Phyllis said. "And she took my dress with her."

"Oh, wow, that's too bad."

"I can't really blame her, though. I mean, this _is _her dream. It's not my fault she got chosen for the show and the only finished sample she had of her work was my dress. I guess I'll just have to go to a bridal salon downtown and look for another one."

"You do that, sis."

Phyllis went downtown the next day with both Raphael and Fluey in tow. Raphael wanted to do something a little different than a traditional wedding cake, so he decided to take her to a bakery he knew of. Fluey decided to tag along. When they reached the bakery, the girl behind the counter pointed out what Raphael had in mind.

"This is our signature item," the girl said. "A wedding cupcake tower."

"What do you think, Phyllis?" Raphael asked. "Is this hip, or what?"

"I give it an or what," Fluey said.

"Yeah, I don't know, Raph," Phyllis said. "I kind of wanted to go with something more traditional, you know?"

"I know," Raphael said. "But _every_body goes with the traditional wedding cake."

"Well . . . . ."

"Okay, let me level with you, Phyl. My parents are insisting they pay for the wedding cake, and they want us to go with the cupcake tower just to be different. Truthfully, I'd rather go with the traditional myself. It's cheaper."

"Why is it cheaper?" Fluey asked.

"Our cupcake towers are custom made in advance," the girl behind the counter said. "But it's worth it, I think. With a cupcake tower opposed to a traditional wedding cake, there's more room for more flavors and more creativity."

"And less leftovers," Fluey commented.

"Besides," Raphael said. "This one we're looking at now is ours. I ordered it the night I proposed, after you accepted.

Phyllis let out a mix between a groan and a laugh, and she gave in. Besides, it might be kind of fun doing something that wasn't traditional. As Raphael showed off the cupcake tower, Fluey glanced around the bakery. He managed to sneak a peak into the kitchens, and saw giant mixers and bowls, and huge fans. By the fans, he noticed a sign:

_Turn Off Fans Before Mixing Flower_

And _that_ gave Fluey an idea.

Late that night, when he was sure his grandfather and his sister were asleep, Fluey used his transformer to switch over to his superhero alter ego, and slipped undetected out of the house, and to the bakery, by converting to liquid and sneaking out underneath the crack in the front door. Once he reached the bakery, he converted to liquid again, and flew up to the roof of the building. He snuck inside through a pipe, and made his way into the building through the plumbing. Then, he made his way into the kitchen, staying in his liquidized state for the time being, just in case the bakery had a security camera hooked up or something. Though completely converted to liquid, he managed to open several large bags of flour, and then, turned on the huge fans. Once he turned the fans on, Fluey immediately shot into the sprinkler system, and watched the action from there. It was a regular blizzard inside the bakery as the fans blew the flour all over the place, covering every square inch. The walls, ceiling, floor, and every last baked good in the store was getting a good dose of this flour shower. Once the bags were empty, Fluey went down, and turned off the fans. Then he made his exit through the sprinkler system, and back home.

The next morning, Phyllis was back at her desk typing up some reports (and thinking about the upcoming wedding), when one of her phones rang. It was the one the chief had installed when the singing Impossibles got popular. That way, anyone calling to schedule a gig wouldn't think they ended up with the wrong number if Phyllis picked up and answered with "Secret Security Headquarters."

"Impossible Records," she said, picking up the phone. The Impossibles had walked in after busting a bank robber to check in with the chief just as she picked up the phone. Fluey stopped in order to catch the conversation.

"What?" Phyllis shouted. "But how did . . . . . well, how long do you think it's going to take to create another one? I see. No, it won't be ready by the wedding date. No, I will _not_ reschedule the wedding! I've waited too long for this! All right. Yes. I'm sorry, too. Goodbye."

Phyllis hung up the phone, and practically growled.

"Good news?" Fluey asked, leaning against the desk.

"Who was on the phone?" Multi asked.

"The bakery," Phyllis said. "Somehow or another, they got bombarded with a blizzard of baking flour, and the entire store was covered, and that included the cupcake tower Raphael had ordered. They said it was going to take at least six months to clean it up, and re-make the cakes and stuff other people ordered before they got around to recreating our cupcake tower."

"Sheesh, that's what I call rotten luck!" Fluey shouted.

"I'd better call Raph and let him know what happened," Phyllis sighed. And wit that, Phyllis picked up the phone and began dialing, while the Impossibles left.

_Two down, one to go, _Fluey said to himself.

That afternoon, Fluey placed another long distance call to Hollywood.

"Is this Stefan Spritzburgh?" he asked. "Franky McAlister of the Impossibles here. Listen, I read in _Scoop Magazine_ that you were having trouble finding a suitable street location for your latest picture. I've got the perfect place for you to work with, right in my hometown of Megatropolis."

Fluey then gave Mr. Spritzburgh the details. The location Fluey was talking about was in the heart of downtown Megatropolis, and it happened to be where the florist Phyllis had chosen was located. Fluey knew if he could get a movie crew to close down the businesses on the street for awhile, Phyllis wouldn't be able to get her flowers for the wedding. He hated to resort to this, but he just _had_ to stall for time in order for Mike to dig up something, _any_thing, that would prove Raphael Caprezio wasn't to be trusted.

A week later, Phyllis found out about the movie shoot, and she was just about ready to lose it. Thankfully, Big D was able to calm her down.

"There are other florists in town," he said. "As well as other bakeries and other places where you can get your wedding dress. I know it's upsetting right now, but it's not the end of the world."

"Right," Phyllis said, taking a deep breath. "I'll just have to go to another florist, another bakery, and another dress shop. No problem at all."

_Not if I can help it, _Fluey said to himself. He had a feeling he was going to be in for another round of Operation: Sabotage.


	8. Round Two

Three days later, Phyllis had arranged things with another florist, another bakery, and another bridal salon. And Fluey was ready for Round Two of Operation: Sabotage. Phyllis was at the bridal salon with the girls. She was trying on wedding dresses while Shawn, FG, and Danalleah were trying on bridesmaid dresses. The three of them were discussing the colors of the dresses. Phyllis hadn't decided yet, and the girls couldn't make up their minds on what color they wanted. While that was going on, Fluey was over at the park with Multi and Coiley, and they were tossing a frisbee to Skittles, and she'd run after it, jump into the air, catch it in her mouth, and run it back to one of the boys.

"I'm glad to see you've loosened up about Phyllis's wedding, Fluey," Coiley said.

"Yeah, well," Fluey said shrugging. "In the immortal words of Ms. Doris Day, que sera sera. What will be will be. You know."

Skittles then trotted up to Fluey with the frisbee in her mouth. Fluey took the disc and tossed, directly toward a mud puddle. It had rained the night before, so parts of the park were pretty muddy. When Skittles jumped up, and caught the frisbee, she ended up taking a dive right into the mud puddle.

Ker-_SPLAT!_

"There she goes again," Coiley said. "You realize that's the fifth mud puddle she's jumped into today?"

"Fluey, why do you keep throwing the frisbee toward the mud puddles?" Multi asked.

"Oh," Fluey said, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Multi, I didn't realize where I was throwing them. Look, if you want, I'll take her and hose her off."

"Okay," Multi agreed. "I'll see you later."

Once Coiley and Multi were out of sight, Fluey let Skittles roll around a little more in the mud. Then, he picked her up, and proceeded to walk downtown, right in the direction of the bridal salon the girls were at.

Fluey had planned this all along. He purposely tossed the frisbee into the mud puddles at the park in order to get Skittles good and dirty. He knew if he walked by the salon, Skittles would see Phyllis, and naturally, rush inside to greet her.

Fluey nonchalantly passed the salon without even stopping, but Skittles began barking, as she saw Phyllis through the window, modeling one of the wedding gowns she was trying to decide on for the girls. Quickly, she jumped out of Fluey's arms, and raced inside the salon at full speed.

"What the . . . ." Shawn started.

"Look out!" FG shouted, but her warning came too late.

Phyllis turned around, and one nanosecond later, something slammed right into her, and knocked her off her feet. She ended up hitting a mannequin on her way down, and that started a domino effect, and several more crashed to the floor. Skittles wasn't aware of this. She was standing on Phyllis's chest, licking her face, and getting muddy little paw prints all over the gown she was wearing (and had neither bought, nor paid for). Fluey was watching outside, and trying hard not to laugh. He knew he had to compose himself before he went in there, or else he was going to blow it. Finally, he pulled himself together, and ran inside the salon.

"Skittles!" he called out. "Come here girl! Where did you . . . . . . oh, hi, sis."

"Hi," Phyllis said, pulling Skittles off her, and handing her to Fluey. "Where's Multi?"

"Oh, I'm pinch hitting," Fluey said, taking the muddy puppy. "We were tossing around the frisbee at the park, and she hit all the mud puddles thanks to my throws. I offered to take her and hose her down, but she got away from me. Geez, Phyllis, I'm _really_ sorry about that."

"So I've noticed," Phyllis said. "Look at this dress!"

"Ruined," the owner of the salon said, sourly, as she walked into the room. "Everything in my salon is com_plete_ly ruined!"

"Sorry about that, ma'am," Fluey said. "Guess I forgot to get her leash."

"I'm _so_ sorry, Mrs. Oliver," Phyllis said. "I'll pay for the damages of course."

"You bet you will!" Mrs. Oliver shouted. "Get out of that dress and out of my shop this minute!"

Phyllis glared at the woman, and went into a fitting room to change out of the puppy-print gown and into her regular clothes. Once she was changed, she returned the gown to Mrs. Oliver who grabbed it back in a huff.

"And don't let me see you bring that _filthy_ little _beast_ in here again!" she shouted. "Or his little dog, either!"

"Hey!" Fluey shouted, indignantly.

"Don't worry, I won't," Phyllis said, glaring. "As a matter of fact, I won't be coming back to your shop at all, after what you just called my brother! Besides, who'd want to buy a wedding gown from the Wicked Witch of the West, anyway?"

"Well, I never!" Mrs. Oliver huffed, and disappeared into the back room of her store.

"The _nerve_ of that woman!" Phyllis shouted, as she, Fluey, and the girls left.

"Sorry, sis," Fluey said, sincerely. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble. I'll pay for the damages to the store if you want."

"Don't worry about it, Fluey," Phyllis said. "I'm not mad at you, or Skittles. She's just a puppy, she can't help get excited when she sees us. But next time you decide to play frisbee, avoid the mud puddles, okay?"

"Sure," Fluey said, nodding.

"I guess this means we'll have to find another bridal salon," Danalleah said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but I'm not worried," Phyllis said. "This time, I'll make _sure _it's not being run by a relative of the Wicked Witch of the West."

And that was all there was to that. Fluey took Skittles back to his place and gave her a good bath, a couple of treats, and a belly rub for a job well done (though Skittles couldn't figure out exactly _what_ she did to earn that belly rub, but she wasn't complaining!)

The next day, Raphael took Phyllis to a bakery in town called La Boulangerie des Grands. The owner, and head chef, was a man known only as Jean-Claude, and he was French, a wedding perfectionist, and a friend of Raphael's mother. After the disaster with the cupcake tower, Mrs. Caprezio called Jean-Claude and commissioned a wedding cake beyond wedding cakes for the couple. Phyllis returned home with a photo of the cake design to show Big D and Fluey. It was a square shaped, five tier cake. Each tier was a different cake flavor (going from the bottom up, lemon, red velvet, devil's food, strawberry, and angel food). The color scheme was white and silver. The icing and the trim was white, but the details were silver. There were silver diamond shapes covering the cake, and at each point of the diamond was a small, silver bead. There were also what looked like crystal accents around the bottom of each layer, and the whole thing was adorned with white icing roses. The topper was a cream colored heart that was accented in crystal rhinestones. The whole thing looked like it had been showered in glitter.

"Isn't this the most gorgeous cake you've ever seen in your life?" Phyllis said, dreamily. "Jean-Claude said it's his most famous design."

"How much is this going to cost me?" Big D asked.

"And he even said he'd have it ready by tomorrow," Phyllis went on.

"Phyllis, how much is he charging for it?" Big D asked again, getting a little annoyed that his granddaughter was just beating around the bush with his question.

"Oh, don't worry, Big D," Phyllis said. "Since Raph's mother is a _very_ good friend of Jean-Claude's, we're getting a _huge_ discount!"

"How much, young lady?" Big D asked, in an ultra-stern voice.

"Ummmm . . . . ." Phyllis said, and she started twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, and shifting from one foot to the other, nervously. "Twelve hundred."

"Twelve hundred _dollars_?" Fluey shouted. "That's ri_dic_ulous! Chief, when you got married, how much did . . . . ."

"Not that much," Big D said. "How much is the discount, may I ask?"

"Seventy percent, actually," Phyllis said. "Because Raph's mom and Jean-Claude are such good friends."

"Ah ha," Big D said, nodding. He pulled out his pipe and lit it. "If that's the case, then it's not a problem at all. After all, seventy percent of twelve hundred . . . . ."

"Well, umm, actually chief . . . ." Phyllis said, and she started chewing on the end of the strand of hair she was chewing. "Twelve hundred dollars _is_ the discount price."

"I see," Big D said, calmly, but both Phyllis and Fluey could tell he wasn't very happy.

"Twelve hundred bucks is the discount price?" Fluey asked, incredulously. "Then that would mean the regular price would be around . . . . . ."

"Four thousand dollars," Big D said. "You expect me to pay _four thousand dollars_ for a wedding cake, young lady? Absolutely not! I am _not _spending that amount of money on a cake! It's out of the question!"

"But it's only going to cost twelve hundred," Phyllis said. "And it won't cost you anything, Big D. Not a thing."

"Oh it won't, will it?" Big D asked. "And how is that possible, might I ask, Phyllis Marie?"

"It's simple," Phyllis said, cringing a bit at being called by her full name. "Mario and Fran are paying for it."

"Mario and Fran?" Fluey asked.

"Raph's parents," Phyllis said. "They insisted I call them Mario and Fran."

"I hope that doesn't give your fiance any ideas," Big D said. "I'm not comfortable with him calling me anything but Mr. Dawson for right now."

"I talked to him about that," Phyllis said, smiling reassuringly at her grandfather. "He said until you say something directly to him, he'll call you Mr. Dawson."

"Are they paying for the whole shebang?" Fluey asked.

"No," Big D said. "I'm paying for some things, and I assume you and your fiance are paying for other things as well, correct, Phyllis?"

"Right," Phyllis said.

"I thought it was tradition for the bride's family to pay for everything," Fluey said.

"If the Caprezios are going to be this generous, then who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?" Big D said.

"I never pegged you to be cheapskate, Big D," Fluey said.

"Watch it, young man," Big D warned, giving Fluey a Look.

The next day, Fluey went down to La Boulangerie des Grands. He needed to infiltrate the place for "Operation: Sabotage." He had gone to one of the SSHQ's Masters of Disguise, Agent Zei (pronounced "Zay") for some advice on going undercover as a French chef. Agent Zei put together an authentic looking costume for him, and gave Fluey some pointers on pulling off a French accent. Before he left the house for his infiltration, he had "borrowed" one of Phyllis's eyebrow pencils, and drew a thin mustache on his upper lip.

Once at the bakery, Fluey walked inside, and found Jean-Claude putting some finishing touches on the cake for Phyllis and Raphael's wedding.

"Pardon me," Fluey said, in a faux French accent. "But are you zee famous Jean-Claude?"

"I am," Jean-Claude said. "Who are you?"

"Pierre Francois," Fluey said. "Directly from Paree. And I take eet zis ees your latest creation?"

"Oui," Jean-Claude said. "Spectacular, no?"

"Eh."

"What do you mean 'eh'?"

"Well . . . . eet is all right, if you _want_ to be plain and boring. How long have you been away from Paree?"

"Ten years."

"Zat ees what I thought. Nobody wants a plain white cake at their weddings anymore. They want color."

"Color? Hmmm . . . . ."

"I'll show you."

With that, Fluey picked up a tube of pink frosting, and a tube of blue frosted, and squeezed just a little bit of each onto the cake.

"You get zee idea?" he asked Jean-Claude.

"Sacres bleu!" Jean-Claude shouted. "I _must_ create!"

Soon, Jean-Claude was squirting his cake with pink, yellow, and blue frosting every which way. Fluey quietly snuck out the front door. He didn't want to hang around when Phyllis and Raphael came by. They might recognize him.

Half an hour later, Phyllis and Raphael entered La Boulangerie des Grands and were greeted by Jean-Claude.

"Mes amies," he said. "I have had a burst of inspiration! What I have done with your cake . . . . . wait until you see eet!"

Jean-Claude then left the room, and returned rolling a cart with the cake on it, covered with a sheet or something. He removed the sheet to reveal the cake was now splattered with pink, yellow, and blue frosting squiggles. Both Raphael and Phyllis stared at it, not knowing what to make of it.

"It's . . . . ." Raphael said, trying to think of the right words to describe it. ". . . .different."

"She is my greatest masterpiece!" Jean-Claude gushed. "A truly remarkable work of art."

"It's a work of art all right," Phyllis said. "A real Jackson Pollock."

"Look, Jean-Claude," Raphael said. "I know you and my mom are close, but really, this isn't what we had in mind."

"If you do not use my masterpiece in your wedding, monsieur, then you can just take your business elsewhere!" Jean-Claude shouted.

"It's up to you, Phyl," Raphael said.

"Let's take our business elsewhere," Phyllis said. "I'll be the laughing stock of the town if the center piece of the reception looks like it was decorated by Jackson Pollock!"

"Philistines! Peasants!" Jean-Claude shouted, angrily. "Zis type of cake is the toast of Paree this season!"

Phyllis and Raphael walked out of the bakery with Jean-Claude shouting in French at them. They had no clue what he was saying, but they had a pretty darn good feeling he was screaming French obscenities at them.

The next morning, Fluey spotted one of Phyllis's "Wedding To-Do" lists on the kitchen table, and picked it up. He read through it, just for curiosity's sake. When he saw the item _find new bakery (again)_, he smiled. Even though he hadn't seen the outcome of his sabotage, he knew it worked (though he wished he could see the look on his sister's face when she saw the Jackson Pollock cake).

"Now all that's left to do is to take care of the flowers," Fluey said. "But how am I going to do that?"

As Fluey thought that over, the front page of the entertainment section of the newspaper caught his eye.

"Super star of stage, screen, and the occasional television commercial, Lyza Minestroni to appear at Megatropolis Forum this weekend only," he read. Then, he smiled sneakily. He had heard Lyza Minestroni was one ex_treme_ diva. She was prone to temper tantrums when she didn't get what she wanted, when she wanted it. And he also knew that _nobody_ wanted to make Lyza Minestroni mad.

Fluey then picked up the phone and dialed a booking agent he knew. Not only did he book some of the Impossibles' tour sites, but Fluey also knew he worked with Lyza Minestroni before, and he needed to get in touch with her people. Once he got the number, he dialed.

"Hello, is this Lyza Minestroni's agent?" he asked, pinching his nose shut to get his voice to sound nasal. "I'm calling on behalf of the Megatropolis branch of the Lyza Minestroni fan club. We are so _hon_ored that Ms. Minestroni is coming to our city, we want to show our undying love for her by sending her one million white roses."

Once Fluey made arrangements with Lyza Minestroni's agent, Fluey then called the florist Phyllis was getting her flowers from.

"I'm calling on behalf of Ms. Lyza Minestroni," he said. "Ms. Minestroni requests exactly one million white roses in her dressing room at the forum. And you wouldn't want to make Ms. Minestroni angry would you? I'm sure you heard about the time a florist _didn't _give her the roses she requested? It took weeks for the doctors to pull out the press-on nails Ms. Minestroni had imbedded into her face. And that was a small example of what Ms. Minestroni does when she doesn't get what she wants!"

Fluey hung up with the florist after a little while, and leaned back in his chair. All he had to do now was wait for Phyllis to get home. And she wasn't happy when she did. She was so angry, she actually slammed the door shut.

"Ooooh, the _nerve_ of her!" she yelled, throwing her purse on the floor. "I don't care how famous she is, or how big her diva tantrums are! She . . . . . she . . . . . _errrggggh_!"

"Bad day at the office, sis?" Fluey teased.

"No," Phyllis said. "I went to the florist's today to check in on my flowers. They were all given to Lyza Minestroni."

"Seriously?" Fluey asked (as if he didn't know any better).

"Yeah, the florist said if Ms. Minestroni _didn't_ get every single white rose in the city of Megatropolis, Ms. Minestroni would go down their and rip their lips off."

"Ouch. So now you're gonna have to find yet _another_ florist, huh?"

"Yes. Oooohhhh, this is so frustrating. But, things can only get better from here. Like the old saying goes. Third time's the charm."

"You got that, right, sis."

Round Two was over. Now all Fluey had to do was go in for "Operation: Sabotage, Round Three." As Phyllis had said, third time's the charm. However, Fluey was hoping this third set of sabotage would get Phyllis fed up with the whole thing and she'd call it off.


	9. Red Handed

Two days later, Fluey was down in the garage with Mike. Mike was compiling some kind of search on his computer. He had access to the database on the criminals that were known for vehicle related instances. Currently, Mike had a digital photo of Raphael up on his computer screen and was comparing it to the photos on the SSHQ criminal dossiers.

"Any luck?" Fluey asked.

"Nope," Mike said. "I've looked up all the places where I might've seen him. See, I don't always spend my time here fixin' and buildin' cars. I've been out on assignment dozens of times, infiltratin' crooked garages, tryin' to expose chop shops, that sort of thing. I even tangled with the Devilish Dragster once."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was about a year before you guys were recruited. Even though I'm a mechanic, I _do_ get my share of the action, when Big D needs a car specialist on a case."

"So you think maybe Raphael is a crook you once contended with?"

"No, but I'm not overlookin' that possibility. And until I'm convinced, I ain't givin' up on it. I can't . . . . . I mean, _we_ can't let her get married to this guy."

"Right."

Fluey didn't say anything after that, but that just proved his theory that Mike _did_ like Phyllis. Why else would he bend over backwards trying to dig up dirt on this guy?

Fluey left Mike to do his research. After all, he still had Round Three of "Operation: Sabotage" to work out. He walked upstairs to the science labs to see what Reggie was up to. He was inspecting a jar full of bugs, but he wasn't opening the jar.

"Hey, Reg," he said. "What's in the jar?"

"The rare South American Muncher Beetle," Reggie said, putting the jar on the table. "Whatever you do, do _not_ open that thing around plant life."

"How come?"

"They're known for eating anything plant related. Their scientific name is Insecticus Eaticus Anythingicus."

Fluey just nodded, and watched Reggie open the jar. He quickly grabbed one out with a pair of tweezers and put the lid back on the jar. Then he put the jar in a cabinet, and the beetle he took out on the lab counter.

"Fluey, do me a favor, and put that jar in with the rest of the insect specimens, would you?" Reggie asked.

"Sure," Fluey said, picking up the jar. "What's with the beetle study, anyway?"

"Agent Freund is stationed in South America," Reggie said. "He said there was a bunch of plant life that was being destroyed, and he sent over the beetles because he thinks they're the culprits."

"I don't think I even _want_ to know."

"Well, like I said, be careful handling them. They eat anything and everything plant related. Flowers, grass, trees . . . . ."

"I get it, I get it."

Fluey took the beetle jar over to where the science techs kept their bug specimens. But before he did, he unscrewed the lid, and took one of the beetles out of the jar. Then, he went over to Phyllis's third florist choice, and put the beetle into the air conditioning duct. Then left before someone could spot him.

The next morning, Phyllis was making another set of lists when the phone rang. She got up to answer it, while Fluey grabbed a box of cereal out of the cabinet, and tried to listen in on his sister's conversation.

"_What_?" he heard her shout. "You're kidding! Oh boy . . . . . how could _one_ little . . . . . all right. Okay. Thanks, anyway. I'm sorry. Bye."

"What's up, sis?" Fluey asked, innocently as Phyllis returned to the kitchen.

"That was my third florist," Phyllis sighed. "They called and said everything in the shop had been eaten."

"_Every_thing?" Fluey shouted, incredulously. He was genuinely surprised at that one. He thought for sure that one little beetle wouldn't eat the florists' entire inventory!

"This just means I have to find _another_ florist," Phyllis groaned. "I _knew_ I should've hired a wedding planner."

"I wouldn't recommend a wedding planner, sis," Fluey said. "They never see your vision the way you see it, and they tend to charge an arm and a leg."

Phyllis ignored her brother.

Two days later, Fluey was scoping out the third bakery with Phyllis and Daisy. The cake was four tiers, and made with yellow sponge cake and white icing.

"Simple, yet stunning," Daisy said.

"I hope it tastes as good as it looks," Phyllis said.

"Why is it so _cold_ in here?" Fluey asked, trying to rub the warmth back into his arms. "I'm _freezing!_ What is this, an ice cream cake or something?"

"No, it's not an ice cream cake," Phyllis said. "They have to keep the temperatures low in here so the cakes can maintain their shape until the big event. If something went wrong with the air conditioning, there could be a major meltdown."

"From both the cake, _and_ the bride," Daisy commented.

"Good to know," Fluey said. "Eeesh! I'm getting out of here before I turn into an ice cube!"

Phyllis groaned and rolled her eyes. She knew Fluey couldn't take the cold very well, in either form, but she knew he was just exaggerating.

That night, Fluey went to the bakery in his superhero form, and snuck inside through a vent. Once he was inside, he found the air conditioner controls, and turned the heat up a bit. Once he did that, he slipped out of the bakery as easily as he slipped in.

The next day, it was practically business as usual at the SSHQ. Phyllis was busy at her typewriter when the phone rang.

"Impossible Records," she said (since it wasn't the regular phone that rang). The minute she picked it up, The Impossibles walked in. Skittles barked, and jumped up onto the desk. Phyllis began scratching her ears, while talking on the phone.

"Uh huh . . . . ." she said. "Uh huh . . . . . okay . . . . . well, how long do you . . . . . uh huh . . . . . all right. Thanks. Bye."

Phyllis hung up the phone and groaned. She looked like she was ready to pound something.

"What's wrong now?" Multi asked.

"The cake melted," Phyllis said. "Something happened to the bakery's air conditioning, and every single cake in the store _melted!_"

"You're not having much luck with this wedding of yours, are you, sis?" Fluey asked.

"No, I'm not," Phyllis said. "I don't understand it. It's like somebody doesn't want me to get married!"

The boys didn't respond. They didn't know what they could say. But Phyllis wasn't going to let it get to her. Yet. After all, there was still her dress. And she went straight to the salon after work, and took the dress home. So far, so good. She brought the box into the kitchen, in order to show it off to Big D and Fluey. Big D was drinking a cup of coffee, going through some paperwork from a case one of the agents was involved in, and having some trouble with. He looked up from his paperwork as Phyllis walked in and put the box from the bridal salon on the table.

"I hope this is the last one," he commented.

"Believe me, I hope so, too," Phyllis said. She opened the box, pulled out the dress, and held it up for her grandfather to see it.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling a little. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

Big D looked at the dress, and then he looked at the price tag, and tensed. It was about all he could do from keeling over and having a heart attack at the price. Fluey walked in at that moment, while Phyllis was showing off her dress.

"Hi," he said. "That the new dress?"

"Yes, and hopefully, nothing will happen to it," Phyllis said.

Fluey nodded. It wasn't going to be easy with this one, he knew that, but then he noticed Big D's coffee mug sitting on the table. That gave him an idea. Just as Big D picked it up, Fluey "accidentally" backed into his grandfather, causing him to involuntarily fling the coffee out of the mug, and, as luck would have it, it splattered all over Phyllis's dress.

"Oh no!" Phyllis shouted. "Oh, not again!"

"Ooohhhh . . . . ." Fluey said. "Geez, sorry about that, sis. I guess I should've watched where I was going."

"Maybe we can still get it out," Phyllis said, rushing over to the sink.

"Why don't you just stick it in the washing machine?" Fluey asked.

"Are you kidding?" Phyllis shouted. "You can't wash a wedding gown in a washing machine!"

"Sure you can!" Fluey shouted, grabbing the dress. "I'll prove it! Watch!"

Fluey went over to the laundry room, started up the washing machine, and tossed in the coffee stained dress, as well as a couple of cup-fulls of detergent. Then he set the cycle on "delicate."

"You leave everything to me, Phyllis," he said. "I'll take care of the dress for you. Trust me."

"Well . . . . ." Phyllis said, hesitantly. "Okay, I guess . . . . ."

And with that, Phyllis left the room. Once she was out of sight, and out of earshot, Fluey began snickering over the whole thing, but he didn't count on Big D hearing him.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Chief!" Fluey shouted, whirling around. "Me? Up to something? What makes you think I'm up to something?"

"That devious sounding snicker I heard from you," Big D said.

"I'm not up to anything, chief, honest," Fluey said, crossing his fingers behind his back. Big D gave him a look, and then left to get back to his paperwork. He knew his grandson was up to something, but he didn't know what, exactly.

Once the washing machine finished the cycle, Fluey stuck it into the dryer, set it on the regular setting, started it up, and left it for the time being. It wasn't even halfway through the cycle when Big D, Fluey, and Phyllis all smelled something burning, coming from the laundry room. The moment they noticed, the smoke alarm went off. Immediately, the trio dashed into the laundry room, and saw the dryer smoking. Big D immediately grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed the dryer with it. Then he handed Fluey the fire extinguisher, and then walked over to the dryer, and turned it off.

"Be prepared, Fluid," he said. "I'm going to open the door."

"Check, chief," Fluey said, holding the fire extinguisher ready, just in case the dryer had accidentally caught on fire. Thankfully, it didn't, but Phyllis's dress had somehow disintegrated in the dryer, and it was scorched beyond repair.

"Oh _no_!" Phyllis shouted.

"Ooohhh . . . . ." Fluey grimaced. "Man, I thought for sure I'd be able to wash and dry it in the washing machine and the dryer."

"I _knew_ that wouldn't work!" Phyllis groaned. "Maybe I should just call the whole thing off. This is getting frustrating _and_ expensive!"

And with that, Phyllis left the room. Fluey smiled sneakily.

"Mission accomplished," he said.

"_What_ did you just say, young man?" Big D asked, giving Fluey a weird look.

"Uhh, nothing, chief," Fluey said.

"Mm hmm," Big D said, eyeing his grandson suspiciously. "Do me a favor and clean up this mess, all right?"

"Yeah, sure," Fluey said. "No problem."

Big D left the laundry room, but paused at the doorway, and watched his grandson clean up the mess for a moment. He wasn't positive on this, but he could _swear_ he could hear Fluey laughing under his breath.

Two days later at the SSHQ, while Big D was going through a couple of cases, his intercom buzzed.

"What is it, Phyllis?" he asked.

"Agent Zei is here to see you, sir," Phyllis said.

"Send him in," Big D said, wondering what in the world Agent Zei wanted. He wasn't on assignment.

"Hiya, boss," Agent Zei said (he had a bit of a Brooklyn accent). "Look, I'm sorry to bug ya, but . . . . I haven't seen Fluey around, and I was wonderin' if you knew where he was. I'd call him myself, but Reg's fixin' my communicator. It's on the blink."

"He's out rehearsing for some concert or another. I can't keep the boys' schedules straight anymore, since they're always off rehearsing for one tour after the other. In any case, I don't know his exact whereabouts, why?"

"Well . . . . . it ain't _too _important. I just need that chef outfit back, that's all."

"Chef outfit?"

"Yeah, he borrowed one from me a couple of days ago. He wanted some advice on sneakin' into a French restaurant or somethin'. I didn't ask what it was for, though."

"I see. Well, if I see Agent Fluid before you do, Zei, I'll give him the message."

"Okay, great. Thanks a mil, chief."

And with that, Agent Zei left the office. No sooner than he had left, Reggie came into the office.

"Sorry to barge in on you, boss, but we've got a problem," he said.

"What kind of a problem?" Big D asked.

"One of my beetles escaped. You know, the specimen Agent Freund sent from South America. The Insecticus Eaticus Anythingicus."

"How did _that_ happen, Johnson?"

"I don't know. I just took one out to test it and I asked Fluey to put the jar in with the rest of the bug specimens a couple of days ago, and nobody went near the jar since."

"So Fluid was the last one with the jar."

"That's about the size of it."

Big D nodded, and went over to his intercom, pushing the button on it.

"Phyllis, could you come in here, please?" he asked.

"What is it, chief?" Phyllis asked, walking into the office.

"The florist that you went to, the one that said a beetle devoured her entire inventory," Big D said. "Did she happen to say what it looked like?"

"Yeah, she said it was big, and it was purple with green stripes and red spots on it's back," Phyllis said.

"Well, Johnson?" Big D asked.

"Yeah, that's the South American Muncher Beetle, all right," Reggie said. "Phyllis, I _swear_, I don't know how that thing got out, but . . . . ."

"Insects can squeeze in and out of even the tightest places, Reggie," Phyllis said, shrugging. "If I were you, I'd double check the insect specimens to make sure no more of these South American Muncher Beetles can get out."

"I'm on it!" Reggie shouted, and he raced back to the labs.

"Don't worry about a swarm, Big D," Phyllis said, as she was leaving the chief's office. "The florist said she squashed the beetle once she found it."

Big D simply nodded, but didn't say anything. He was stuck on the fact that Fluey had been the last one with the beetle jar. That evening, Big D went home, and looked at the mail. The phone bill was there. He opened the envelope, and looked at it.

"What the . . . . ." he started, and he saw two long distance charges to Hollywood, and another one to New York. He dialed the operator to find out what exactly these numbers were. One was to the producers of _Fabulous Fashion_, another to the offices of Stephan Spitzberg, and the third to the booking agent of Lyza Minestroni. Then, he called up Jean-Claude at La Boulangerie des Grands.

"About that cake you created for my granddaughter's wedding," he said. "_Where_ in the world did you get an idea like that from?"

"Zee famous Pierre Francois," Jean-Claude said. "He said eet was zee toast of Paree."

"I've never heard of him."

"Well, he was kind of young looking. Like he was zee teenager. He was sort of medium height, black hair, pencil mustache . . . . . matter of fact, the mustache looked like eet was drawn on wiz zee eyebrow pencil. It looked a bit . . . . . smudgy."

"I see. Thank you."

Big D then hung up the phone, and drummed his fingers against the table. He knew something was up. As he was pondering that, the front door opened, and Fluey walked in.

"Hiya, Big D," he said.

"Fluid, I have a message for you from Agent Zei," Big D said, calmly. "He wants that chef costume he loaned you back."

"Uhhh, chef costume?" Fluey asked.

"Yes, chef costume," Big D continued, and he turned around to face his grandson. Fluey cringed once he saw the look on Big D's face.

"The one you borrowed to masquerade as the famous French chef Pierre Francois?" Big D continued.

"Really, chief, I don't know what you're . . . ." Fluey began.

"And what about this phone bill, young man? Three long distance calls here, two to Hollywood, one to New York . . . . . the producers of that television show Phyllis's friend was accepted for, the director that shut down Main Street to film a movie, and Lyza Minestroni's booking agent. Not to mention Dr. Johnson informed me you were the last one with a jar of ravenous beetles, and one happened to get out."

"Umm . . . . I . . . . uhhh . . . . ."

"I heard you muttering under your breath the other day, young man. You _knew_ putting that dress in the dryer would ruin it, didn't you?"

"Uh oh. Something tells me the jig is up."

"What's going on?" Phyllis asked, coming down the stairs.

"We've solved the mystery to your wedding crises," Big D said, handing Phyllis the phone bill. "Apparently, your brother was going behind your back causing mischief."

"What?" Phyllis shouted, and glared at Fluey. "You mean to tell me, _you_ convinced the _Fabulous Fashion_ people to get Sammi on their show, allowed Skittles to run into an exclusive dress shop covered in mud, and everything _else_?"

"Hey, come on," Fluey said, trying to weasel his way out of this. "I mean . . . . uhhh . . . . that is . . . ."

"I don't want to hear your excuses," Big D said. "Go to your room this instant!"

"But chief, I was just trying to . . . . ." Fluey started.

"This _instant_, young man!" Big D shouted. Fluey then beat a hasty retreat up the stairs. He knew better than to press his luck when Big D started shouting at him.

"I'd better call Raph and tell him what's going on," Phyllis groaned. "I can't be_lieve_ Fluey would _do_ that sort of thing."

"I wouldn't have thought to suspect him, myself," Big D said. Then he sighed. "I'd better go up there and have a word with him."

"Okay, but try to keep your temper," Phyllis said. Big D nodded, and walked up the stairs and down the hall to Fluey's bedroom. He opened it, and found Fluey sitting on his bed.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Fluey asked.

"You bet you are," Big D said. "What on earth po_ssessed_ you to try to sabotage your sister's wedding plans?"

"I thought if I could get her so fed up with spending all this money and having things go wrong, then she'd call the whole thing off."

"Do you realize what could have happened with all the stunts you pulled? Especially the incident with the dryer? You're lucky nothing caught on fire, young man!"

"I'm sorry, chief."

"Sorry is _not_ going to cut it, young man. You are going to pay for the flowers you had sent to Lyza Minestroni, as well as the damages to the stores you've wrecked. And don't you dare tell me you can't afford it. I'm fully aware of how much rock and roll singers are paid, _and_ I know just how much is in your account. I'm aware you don't like Phyllis's fiance, but that does _not_ excuse your behavior. I do _not_ want to see, or hear about you causing this kind of trouble again! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

Big D nodded, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Fluey flopped down on the bed and sighed. He didn't blame Big D for laying down the law like he did. He knew he deserved it, and he _was_ sorry about it, but he _had_ to get rid of Raphael. He just couldn't let his sister get married to him. He had to come up with a different plan of attack, and fast!


	10. Rehearsal Wreck

_I've decided to up the rating of this story to T as a precaution, as things are about to get a little heavy by the end of this chapter.

* * *

_

It was getting closer and closer to the wedding day. Fluey had run out of ideas on how to stop this thing. Mike was still beating his brains out trying to figure out where exactly he saw Raphael Caprezio before. And the others wouldn't listen to either of them about their theories.

"I still can't believe you were the one causing all that trouble, Fluey," Coiley said one afternoon. The boys were in Fluey's driveway, tossing around the basketball. Skittles was napping on the porch.

"Next time you pull a stunt like that, leave my dog out of it, okay?" Multi asked.

"Sorry," Fluey said. "But I'm still hopeful. As long as Shawn, FG, and Dani can't agree on bridesmaids dresses, this thing might not happen."

"I don't understand you, anyway," Multi went on, dribbling the ball, and tossing it into the hoop. "Raphael seems like a perfectly nice, normal guy to me."

"Look, I just don't trust him," Fluey said. "He's _got_ to be up to something! _Nobody_ is as perfect as he is!"

"You sound like a broken record," Coiley said, shooting the ball into the hoop.

Fluey caught the ball on the rebound and gave Coiley a dirty look. He dribbled a bit, and then paused, when he saw Raphael in his red Ferrari pull up to the curb.

"Oh _no_," he groaned.

"Hi, fellas," Raphael said, climbing out of his car. "What's happenin'?"

"Nothing much," Fluey said, throwing the ball.

"Up to any more mischief, Franky?" Raphael asked.

"_No_," Fluey said, glaring at his sister's fiance. He wasn't surprised Phyllis told Raphael about his shenanigans. "What are you doing here, anyway? Phyllis isn't even home."

"Yeah, I know, she's checking on bridesmaid dresses," Raphael said. "In any case, I don't need to talk to her, I, or rather _we_, need to talk to you guys."

"Whatever it is, the answer's no," Fluey said.

"Come on, Franky, hear him out at least," Multi said.

"Oh all right," Fluey said, grudgingly.

"Okay," Raphael said. "While Phyllis and I were discussing the members of the wedding party, we found out we have a slight problem. Neither of us has any relatives younger than sixteen. We need a ring bearer, and Phyllis mentioned that you have a younger brother, Mark, and . . . . ."

"My younger brother's three," Multi interrupted. "I don't think he'll be able to stand still long enough for the ceremony."

"Yeah, Phyllis thought so, too," Raphael said. "So we came up with an alternative, if it's all right with you, that is. Instead of a ring bearer, I thought maybe we could have a ring puppy."

"Ring puppy?" Multi asked. "You mean Skittles?"

"Exactly," Raphael said. "Unless she doesn't like the idea of dressing up in a little tux. If that's the case then . . . . ."

"No, she doesn't mind people dressing her up," Multi said (that happened to be true, considering Skittles's double life). "But she can't carry the rings in her mouth."

"I know," Raphael said. "But we thought we'd fix the rings on a pillow, strap the pillow to Skittles's back, and she'll just walk down the aisle that way. Phyllis thinks it'll be so cute. What do you think?"

"I'll have to ask her," Multi said, and he turned to his puppy. "What do you say, girl?"

Skittles barked her agreement, for Phyllis's sake.

"Okay, she's in," Multi said.

"Great," Raphael said, and then he turned to Coiley. "Calvin, we still need a flower girl. Phyllis mentioned your kid sister. Would she be interested?"

"Well . . . . ." Coiley said, thoughtfully. "I'm not sure . . . . ."

"Isn't ten a little old to be a flower girl?" Fluey asked.

"Not necessarily," Coiley said, shrugging. "I _am_ gonna have to ask her about it, Raphael. She was the flower girl at my oldest sister's wedding two years ago, and she loved it, so she _might_ go for it this time around. She _loves _to play dress up, and she also likes getting all dressed up. I'll talk to her when I get home tonight."

"Great, thanks a lot, Calvin," Raphael said. "I just need one more thing from you guys. I found out that Phyllis's bridesmaids are your girlfriends, and we thought maybe you'd like to, you know, be my groomsmen."

"You mean, stand up on the altar behind you during the whole ceremony and escort our girlfriends out when it's over?" Fluey asked.

"Right," Raphael said.

"Wrong," Fluey replied, flatly. Then he went back to dribbling his basketball. "I'm not gonna do it."

"Aw, come on, Franky," Raphael said, sounding like a parent trying to convince a toddler to eat his vegetables. "Don't you think it'll be fun?"

"Are you _patron_izing me?" Fluey asked, giving Raphael the "Evil Eye." He _hated_ being patronized. He felt it was a step up from baby-talk.

"Come on, Franky, your sister would _really_ appreciate it," Raphael said. "She said so herself when I suggested it."

"No," Fluey said.

"Look, if Mark and Calvin agree to it, would you do it?" Raphael asked.

"Well . . . . ." Fluey said, hesitantly, and he looked over at Multi and Coiley to see what they were going to do.

"Come on, Franky," Coiley said. "Let it go."

"You mean you guys are _act_ually gonna do it?" Fluey asked.

"Why not?" Multi said, shrugging.

"I don't know . . . . ." Fluey said.

"Well, at least think about it," Raphael said.

"Oh all right," Fluey grumbled. "I'll think about it."

"Great, thanks," Raphael said. "And I can count on you guys providing the entertainment at the reception, right?"

"You know what our fee is?" Fluey asked. "Hundred bucks an hour."

"Franky!" Coiley shouted, swatting his teammate in the arm. "He's kidding, Raphael. We'll do it for nothing."

"Yeah, Franky, this is your _sister_," Multi said. "You wouldn't charge your own sister for us to play at her own wedding, would you?"

"I guess not," Fluey said, rolling his eyes.

"Great, thanks fellas," Raphael said. "I'll see you later."

And with that, Raphael got into his car, and left. Fluey tossed the basketball aside, and went to the Impossi-Mobile.

"Where are you going?" Multi asked.

"Downtown," Fluey said. "I want to get the scoop with Phyllis."

"Hold it," Coiley said, as he, Multi, and Skittles walked over to the car as well. "Better let one of us drive. Considering you're in a mood . . . . ."

"Man, just because I'm not the world's best driver . . . . ." Fluey grumbled.

"We don't want another lecture from Mike about smashing up the car," Multi said.

"I have to wonder how you passed the driver's license test, anyway," Coiley said. "What'd you do? Copy the answers from the guy next to you or something?"

"Ha, ha, ha, Shorty," Fluey said, sarcastically. That shut Coiley up. He didn't like cracks about his height (or weight, for that matter). That was how Fluey usually got Coiley off his back when he made wisecracks about his driving skills.

The boys made it to the bridal salon just as the girls were leaving it. Each of the girls was carrying a large box.

"I take it you _finally_ agreed on bridesmaids dresses?" Fluey asked.

"We did," Phyllis said. "We went with peach."

"Peach, huh?" Coiley asked. "What was the argument about, anyway?"

"FG wanted mint green, Shawn wanted pink, and Danalleah wanted lavender," Phyllis said. "I figured you guys wouldn't want to be caught dead wearing pink, so . . . . ."

"So you _did_ ask him to ask us to be part of the wedding crew?" Fluey asked. "He wasn't just feeding us a line?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be cute to pair you guys off, you know?" Phyllis said. "Multi and Shawn, you and Danalleah, and Coiley and FG. Oh, by the way, Multi, is Skittles on board?"

"Definitely," Multi said, nodding.

"You'll have to wait until later to know if Courtney wants to do this," Coiley said.

"No problem, we still have time before the big event," Phyllis said.

"Thank goodness," Fluey muttered under his breath. Nobody heard him. "So . . . . what's all this not being caught dead wearing pink jazz?"

"Phyllis thought it would be a nice touch if you guys matched us girls," Shawn said.

"What, are we gonna have to find a place that rents out pastel tuxes or something?" Fluey asked. "No chance, man!"

"No, I don't mean it like _that_," Phyllis said, giving her brother a look. "I _meant_ you guys wear ties or cummerbunds or something like that that match the bridesmaid dresses."

"I still don't know," Fluey said. "I don't know if I can handle it."

"All you have to do is stand there," FG pointed out.

"Yeah, me standing that close to Mr. Perfect without strangling him?" Fluey asked. "I don't know if I can do that, Phyllis."

"Oh, come on, Fluey," Phyllis said. "Please? It would really mean a lot to me."

"Oh, all right," Fluey said, resignedly. "I'll do it. As a favor to you, sis. But put me as far away from Mr. Perfect as possible. I may be tempted to wring his neck in the middle of the ceremony."

Phyllis swatted Fluey in the arm for _that_ remark, but she did give him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for cooperating.

As the wedding date began getting closer, Fluey was beginning to get desperate. Coiley had talked to Courtney about being the flower girl for Phyllis's wedding, and she was ecstatic. Though Coiley's mother, Martha, wasn't so sure. Phyllis and Raphael asked her if she could cater the wedding (considering Martha's Diner was the most popular restaurant in Megatropolis), so she didn't have time to make the necessary preparations for a flower girl dress. But Phyllis had that covered. Fluey's "aunt" Tillie agreed to make whatever alterations on all the dresses and tuxedos that needed to be made. Being a former Hollywood costume designer, Tillie was an expert seamstress.

"I can't let her go through with this," Fluey said, as his "aunt" was sticking pins in the tux he was wearing at the time. It needed a few alterations.

"Hold still, Franky," Tillie said.

"I don't trust him," Fluey said.

"What's so bad about him, anyway?"

"Have you met him yet?"

"Yes. I think he's a sweet, charming, handsome, wonderful young man."

"In other words . . . . . the perfect guy?"

"Pretty much."

"Exactly. He's _too_ perfect. He doesn't have any flaws! And you know the old saying, if it's too good to be true, it usually is! Oooh . . . . . I'd like to take that Mr. Perfect act of his and . . . . . . _ow_!"

While Fluey was ranting, Tillie had accidently stuck him with one of her pins.

"Sorry, honey, but I told you to hold still," Tillie said.

Fluey let out a mix between a groan and a growl, and he stood still to avoid his "aunt" sticking him again.

The next day, Fluey went to the SSHQ hangar to get an update. Mike was sitting at his workbench, waving the wedding invitation Phyllis gave him back and forth, using it as a fan or something.

"There's nothin' in the files I have access to," he said. "I need to get a look at the main database, and I don't have access to that. You need a password to get into them, and only Big D and Phyllis know it."

"Don't look at me," Fluey said. "I don't even have access to my own file! How do we go about getting access?"

"We gotta get the chief's permission. And that's easier said than done. He's gonna want to to know why we want to dig in the databases."

"Not good. He'll never give us access if we tell him we're trying to see if Phyllis's fiance is a crook. He's still sore at me for trying to sabotage the wedding in the first place."

"I'm about ready to throw in the towel. I can't find anythin', and I can't think of where I've seen this guy before!"

"Well, we can't just give up, we've got to _do_ something!"

"But what? We can't ask Big D to let us into the main database so we can look to see if Phyllis's fiance is in there, and we _can't_ ask Phyllis for the password. She'll only tell us we need permission from Big D."

Fluey sighed. This was going to be a tough one. He went up to the chief's office. Phyllis was at her typewriter as usual.

"Big D in?" Fluey asked.

"Yep," Phyllis replied. "I don't think he's busy, but you might want to knock, anyway."

"Okay."

Fluey walked over to the door, and knocked.

"Yes?" Big D asked.

"It's me," Fluey said. "Can I come in?"

"All right."

Fluey walked in, and saw Big D going through some paperwork.

"Hi," he said. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on," Big D said.

"How would Mike and I go about getting permission to access the main database?"

"You and Agent Rogers want access to the main database?"

"Yeah."

"Ah ha. No. Absolutely not. You only want to get into the main database so you can check on Phyllis's fiance. I don't know why Rogers would want permission to access the main database, but I have a suspicion you two are in cahoots."

"But Big D . . . . ."

"No buts! And don't you _dare_ try to hack into the system yourselves. Believe me, I will know if you two try it. The penalty for that is immediate expulsion. Is that clear?"

"But . . . . ."

"Is that _clear_, young man?"

"Yes, sir."

Big D nodded, and dismissed his grandson. Fluey was _really_ running out of options here. The wedding day loomed closer, and he and Mike still didn't have any incriminating information on Raphael, and it looked like they never were going to get any.

Finally, it was the Friday before the wedding, and everything was ready. All that had to be done was the wedding rehearsal, but that wasn't until that evening, around seven or so. That morning, Phyllis was getting some typing done for the chief when Mike walked in, holding a folded piece of paper in his hand.

"Hi," he said, clearing his throat. "Uhh, is the chief in?"

"He is," Phyllis said. "Why? Do you need to see him?"

"Yeah, it's . . . . . kinda important."

"Sure."

Phyllis stopped typing for a moment, and pushed a button on her desk intercom.

"Chief," she said. "Agent Rogers is here to see you."

"Rogers, eh?" Big D said, via intercom. "Send him in."

Mike went into the office, and closed the door. Big D just sat there and looked at him.

"I'm a little surprised to see you up here, Rogers," he said, pulling his pipe out of his desk. "I usually don't have any need to send for you. And when I do need you, I come to you."

"I know, sir," Mike said, and he cleared his throat. His throat always seemed to dry out whenever he was nervous.

"You're not here to ask about access to the main database, are you? I don't know why _you're_ so interested in this matter with Raphael Caprezio, but since Fluid had asked about access to the files, and he mentioned your name . . . . ."

"No, sir, it . . . . it isn't about that. I, uhhh . . . . I just wanted to . . . . . ummm . . . . give you my resignation."

"Give me your _what_?"

Big D got to his feet and stared at Mike as if he had a pussy willow vine growing out of his ears. Mike took a deep breath, and handed Big D the piece of paper he had with him. Big D unfolded it, and read through it.

"You're resigning?" Big D asked, still looking at Mike as if he were crazy. "Why on _earth_ do you want to resign?"

"Well . . . . ." Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I just think . . . . . I think it's just time for me to move on, you know?"

"I see," Big D said, sitting back down. He looked at Mike, oddly. "I find it strange that you would wish to resign, Rogers. You _are_ my best mechanic, after all."

"Yeah, well . . . . ." Mike said, clearing his throat yet again. "Like I said . . . . . I think it's time for me to move on. Time to head back to the ol' homestead in Texas, y'know?"

"And when exactly did you plan to take your leave?"

"Today. After I get all my stuff packed up, that is."

"That doesn't give me much time to find a replacement."

"Yeah, I know, and I'm sorry about that, Big D, but the mechanic team can handle things down there, and I'm sure you can promote one of them. I just kinda want to be out of here before Monday."

"Very well, then, Rogers. If that's the way you want it . . . . . . I hate to see you leave, but if your mind is already made up . . . . ."

"It is."

"Very well. Then I suppose I'll see you tomorrow at the wedding then?"

"No, sir. You won't."

And with that, Mike left the office to get back to the garage so he could pack up his things. Half an hour later, the Impossibles and Skittles raced into the hangar.

"Mike! We just talked to the chief and he said you were leaving!" Coiley shouted. "Is it true?"

"Yep," Mike said, tossing a couple of his tools into a toolbox. "It's true. Come Monday, I'll be in Texas."

"But why are you leaving?" Multi asked.

"It's time for a change," Mike said. "Time to move on."

"That's a load of bull, Mike," Fluey said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the young mechanic. "You _can't_ quit!"

"Fluey's right, you're the best mechanic we've ever met!" Multi shouted.

"Shoot, you guys just don't want me to leave because I'm the only one who knows how to fix that darn car of yours!" Mike shouted.

"But Mike . . . ." Coiley started.

"No buts," Mike said. "I'm leavin' and that's that."

Multi, Coiley, and Skittles seemed to accept that, and they left. Fluey stayed behind for a minute or so.

"Mike, you can't quit on me now," Fluey said. "What about Mr. Perfect?"

"I can't find anythin'," Mike said. "And I highly doubt I'll be able to find anything before the weddin' tomorrow. Besides, maybe we're wrong about this whole thing, I don't know."

"Yeah, but why are you quitting the entire agency?"

"I don't think you'd understand, kiddo. But I'll run it by ya, anyway. If Phyllis gets married to Mr. Perfect, I don't think I'll be able to stand it. I really regret not askin' her out when I had the chance, and now, it's too late. I'm not even goin' to the weddin', either. I don't think I could stand it."

"So in other words I'm on my own."

"Pretty much. Sorry to bail on ya like this, kid, but . . . . ."

"Don't worry about it, I still have one last trick up my sleeve."

That evening, everyone in the wedding party was gathered for the wedding rehearsal. Everyone that is, except Fluey. He apparently had made himself scarce.

"Guys, have you seen Fluey around?" Phyllis asked.

"No," Coiley said. "We haven't seen him since we went down to Mike's garage to see if it was true that he quit."

"I just hope he isn't up to something," Phyllis said.

Coiley and Multi shrugged, and the rehearsal got under way. Raphael and his best man (a guy named Luke Jacobs) came in through a side door, and stood at the altar. The minute Raphael got there, he felt something dripping on his head.

"What the?" he asked, looking up, and he ended up with a drop of water right in the eye.

"Oh geez!" he yelled.

"There must be a leak in the pipe or something," the minister said. "Do you want me to call the custodian to fix it? We can wait until they're finished to . . . . ."

"No, it's okay," Raphael said. "I'm not gonna melt or anything like that. Just so long as it's fixed before tomorrow afternoon."

And that was all there was to that. The first one down the aisle as Danalleah. Fluey would have been walking down with her, but he was AWOL at the moment, and the others wanted to get the show on the road. After Danalleah took her place, Coiley and FG came down, followed by Multi and Shawn. They each took their positions at the altar. Then, came Skittles, wearing a satin pillow strapped to her back. There were a set of fake rings sewn onto it. Luke was going to be holding onto the real ones during the ceremony until it was time to exchange them. Then, Courtney came down the aisle, carrying her basket. She was reaching her hand into it, and appeared to be throwing something, but she wasn't throwing anything. Her basket was empty.

"Courtney, what are you doing?" Coiley asked, giving his sister a weird look.

"Practicing," Courtney said. "Duh!"

"Little sisters," Coiley mumbled under his breath. Nobody heard him.

After Courtney, Daisy came down the aisle. Then, there was a brief pause, Phyllis came down the aisle herself, escorted by Big D. So far, so good. The minister began the ceremony, and it was smooth sailing, until he got to one crucial moment.

"If anyone objects to this marriage, let them speak now or forever hold your . . . . . ."

But the minister didn't even get to finish that sentence. Just before he got to the last word, a huge gush of what looked like green water came rushing out of the pipe in the ceiling, and soaked Raphael thoroughly.

"Brother, that's _some_ leak!" Luke commented.

"Yeccchhh!" Raphael shouted. "Now what in the world caused _that_?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Phyllis grumbled.

"As do I," Big D said. "Come on, Phyllis. Let's go look into this 'leak,' shall we?"

Phyllis nodded, and she and Big D went downstairs to the chapel's basement. Phyllis picked up a nearby broom and began whacking at one of the overhead pipes.

"Fluey, get out here right now!" she shouted. No response. Phyllis continued to whack at the pipes.

"I mean it, buster!" she yelled. "You're in serious trouble, and don't try to worm your way out of it!"

Again, no answer. Phyllis hated to resort to this, but she didn't have any other choice. This was the only way she knew Fluey would come out from wherever in the plumbing he was hiding.

"Franklin Peter McAlister, come out here _right this instant_!" Phyllis yelled at the top of her voice.

That did it. Fluey streamed out of a faucet by a sink, and morphed into solid in front of his sister and his grandfather. He knew if anyone used his full name, he was in big trouble.

"You had better have a good explanation for this, young man," Big D said, sounding irritated.

"I can't let you marry this guy, Phyllis," Fluey said. "I don't care what you guys say, I don't trust him!"

"Fluey, _please_," Phyllis groaned. "Stop it! You're too suspicious! Raphael is a _great_ guy! I _know_ he's the one! So would you _please_ grow up and stop acting like such a baby over this!"

"I am _not_ acting like a baby!" Fluey yelled.

"Well, you haven't been acting like an adult through this whole thing, that's for sure," Big D said. "And furthermore, when I signed you boys up with the agency, I gave you strict orders _not_ to use your powers unless it was an emergency, and this does _not_ qualify as an emergency."

"It does to me," Fluey said.

"Cute, Fluid," Big D said, dryly. "Very cute. Deactivate your powers right now, if you please."

Fluey sighed, pulled out his transformer, and pushed a button on it, converting back to his civilian identity. Then Big D held his hand out.

"Hand it over," he said.

"What? My transformer?" Fluey asked. "How do you expect me to fight crime if I can't access my powers? Especially if the three of us end up separated?"

"You won't have to worry about that," Big D said. "You're suspended until further notice. Now hand over your transformer, _and_ your communicator."

"Sus_pen_ded?" Fluey yelled. "Chief, come on, you can't suspend me for . . . . ."

"I can't suspend you for trying to ruin your sister's wedding, no," Big D said. "However, I _can_ suspend you for unauthorized use of your super powers."

"But . . . . ."

"No buts, young man! Now hand over your transformer and your communicator!"

Fluey grumbled, and did as he was told. Then the three of them went back upstairs.

"Did you fix the leak?" Luke asked.

"We did," Phyllis said. "It turned out there wasn't any leak. My brother was playing with the plumbing."

"Come on, Franky, it's not the end of the world," Raphael said. "You'll get used to me being married to your sister. I promise."

Fluey glared at Raphael, and walked up to the altar. Everyone thought he was going to take his place behind Coiley, but instead, he clenched his fist, and socked Raphael right in the jaw, knocking him off his feet.

"Hey, Franky, cool it!" Coiley shouted.

"No!" Fluey yelled. "I'm not gonna let this wedding take place! I'm not gonna let some fake, phony Mr. Perfect come into our lives, sweep _my_ sister off her feet, and marry her! He's _got_ to have an ulterior motive for all this!"

"Franklin . . . . ." Big D said, in a warning tone. Fluey didn't listen. Raphael started to get up, but Fluey ended up tackling him to the ground, and pinned him there.

"I know you're up to no good!" he shouted. "Why don't you just come clean? Why don't you just admit you're nothing but a lying, sleazy, no good, rotten, son-of-a . . . . ."

"Franklin Peter Anthony Manikatti McAlister Dawson, that is _ENOUGH_!" Phyllis screamed at the top of her voice. _That_ stopped Fluey cold. He had _never_ heard _any_one call him _that_ before! And when someone _did_ use that entire mouthful of a name, Fluey knew he was not only in big trouble, he was in dinosaur sized trouble!

Phyllis stormed over to Raphael and Fluey, grabbed her brother by the back of his shirt collar, and wrenched him to his feet. Then she grabbed him by the arms, and gripped as hard as she could.

"Ow! Hey, come on sis, that hurts!" Fluey shouted.

"I've _had_ it with you!" she yelled. "You've done nothing but act like a spoiled little brat throughout this whole thing! You've done everything you could to ruin the preparation of this wedding, and I am _not_ going to let you ruin my special day!"

"Sis, come on, I'm only trying to protect you!"

"Well, I don't _need_ your protection! As of this moment, I'm forbidding you to attend this wedding!"

"Hey come on, Phyllis, you can't _un_invite me to your wedding like that!"

"I can, and I am! I don't want you at my wedding, Franky. You'll only try to ruin it."

"I'm just trying to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life marrying this jerk! But I guess your brain is so clouded you can't even see straight anymore, like every other dumb blonde in America!"

Phyllis then suddenly punched Fluey right in the eye as hard as she could. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet. Everyone else stood there in shock. They couldn't believe Phyllis had _actually_ slugged her brother like that! She didn't say anything afterward. All she did was help Raphael up to his feet, and went to the altar.

"Sorry you had to see that, everyone," she said, and then turned to the minister. "Shall we continue?"

Big D then pulled Fluey to his feet, and led him over to one of the pews.

"Mark, do you have your dog's leash?" Big D asked.

"Yeah, here," Multi said, handing Big D Skittles's leash (though it felt odd having the chief call him by his real name).

"Thank you," Big D said, taking the leash, and tying one end of it around Fluey's wrist.

"Hey, come on, chief, this is embarrassing!" Fluey shouted.

"I'm sorry," Big D said. "But this is the only way I can guarantee you staying _out_ of trouble until the rehearsal is over."

"But . . . ." Fluey started.

"No buts!" Big D shouted (which got everyone else's attention). "If you're going to _act_ like a child, then I'm going to _treat_ you like a child!"

"Ooooh, burn!" FG commented.

"Ouch," Shawn cringed.

Fluey groaned, and sat down. There wasn't much else he could do. When the minister got to the objections part, Fluey once again tried to speak his peace, but the minute he stood up, Big D tugged on the leash, and Fluey sat back down. The worst part of the whole thing was Big D kept him on that leash until they returned home that night once the wedding rehearsal was finished.

"This isn't fair, Big D!" Fluey protested. "I'm only trying to . . . ."

"I don't want to hear it, young man!" Big D shouted.

"But I'm _pos_itive Raphael is . . . . ."

"Do you have proof?"

"Well . . . . no . . . . . but that doesn't mean . . . . ."

"Fluey, stop!" Phyllis shouted. "I've heard enough of this! We know you don't like Raphael, but you _can't_ tell me who I can, or can not marry! It's not your decision, and I don't need your approval! Now will you _please_ just drop it!"

"But you know my instincts are _always_ right!" Fluey argued.

"Unless you can provide the proof to back up this theory of yours, young man, then I'm afraid the suspension still stands," Big D said. "Furthermore, you're grounded for the weekend. I don't want you leaving your bedroom for the next two days."

"Grounded?" Fluey shouted. "But . . . . but chief!"

"No buts," Big D said. "Go to your room."

"But . . . . ."

"Now!"

Fluey glared at both his sister and his grandfather, and began stomping up the stairs to his bedroom, grumbling under his breath. Then he slammed the door shut.

"That boy has _got_ to learn some discipline," Big D said.

Phyllis nodded, and then she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea to calm her nerves.

Except Fluey wasn't going to just drop it. At midnight, when Big D and Phyllis were asleep, Fluey quietly snuck out of his bedroom, much like when he was sneaking out of his room to watch _The Late Night Fright Fest Double Feature._ But instead of going into the den, Fluey snuck out the front door, armed with the address of Raphael's apartment, and a lock pick. He knew Raphael was having a bachelor party that night, and wouldn't be home, so this was his only chance to do some investigating.

"If they want proof, I'll give them proof," he said.

Raphael lived in a swanky apartment in downtown Megatropolis. Luke also lived with him. Not only was he Raphael's best friend, he was also his roommate. Fluey thought that was just another cover. The apartment doors were on the outside, so he wouldn't have to bother with going inside a lobby or anything like that. He climbed up the fire escape to the fifth floor, and found Apartment 5C. Of course, the door was locked, which was why Fluey had brought along the lock pick. Since Big D confiscated his transformer, he couldn't slip underneath it. Once the door opened, Fluey quietly went inside, and turned on a light. Fluey wasn't surprised at the swank decor of the place, but he didn't have time to take it in. He needed to find something incriminating about Raphael. A briefcase on the kitchen counter caught his eye, and he walked over to it. Oddly enough, the briefcase was unlocked.

"Let's see what we have here," he said, opening the briefcase. Inside were several papers, some plane tickets, a couple of bottles, and what appeared to be an Arabian princess costume.

"Eeesh . . . ." he said, once he saw it. "What the heck is he doing with . . . . . no, never mind, I _don't_ want to know!"

Fluey then picked up one of the bottles inside the briefcase and looked at it.

"Chloroform?" he said, after reading the label. "_Def_initely something fishy about _that_."

Fluey then took a look at the plane tickets. He figured they were the honeymoon tickets. Phyllis had told him, and the others, that she and Raphael were going to be spending their honeymoon in Hawaii. Fluey was thinking, if he hid the tickets, they wouldn't be going on that honeymoon. But instead of pocketing them, Fluey looked at them.

"Wait a minute!" he shouted. "These aren't round trip to Hawaii. They're one way to the Middle East!"

Fluey dug through the briefcase a little more, and unearthed several documents. One was a check for half a million dollars, made out to somebody named Vincent de Leo. A letter was in the same envelope as the check.

_Dear Mr. de Leo,_

_ Or is it Mr. Caprezio? I'm not sure what you are calling yourself at this time, but it does not matter. I can not express my gratitude to you enough for finding me a golden haired beauty for my latest bride, and harem collection. Girls with golden hair are somewhat difficult to locate here in Abrah Kadabrah. This Phyllis is perfect, exactly what I wanted. As we agreed, I am sending you the check for five hundred thousand dollars. I will give you a check for the other five hundred thousand when you deliver my bride to me._

_ Regards,_

_ Shiek Abdullah Ahblanghatta_

"So _that's_ it," Fluey said, putting everything back into the briefcase. "He's gonna trick Phyllis aboard a plane heading to an unknown Middle Eastern country and sell her into slavery! Well, he's _not _gonna get away with it! I've gotta get this briefcase to Big D before . . . . ."

Suddenly, a hand clamped over Fluey's mouth, and he was dragged away from the briefcase. Fluey struggled and screamed, trying to break free, but his assailant was too strong for him.

"Well, look what we have here," a familiar voice said. "Hiya, Franky boy."

It was Raphael. He and Luke had returned to the apartment.

"Looks like he was snooping around, Vince," Luke said.

"Definitely," Raphael said, increasing his grip on the dark-haired teenager. "Too bad he ain't gonna tell anyone. You want to know something, squirt? You're too nosy for your own good."

Luke opened the briefcase, took out the chloroform bottle, and emptied some of it onto a handkerchief. Then he walked over toward Raphael and Fluey. Raphael removed his hand from Fluey's mouth, and Fluey tried to let out a scream for help, but Luke pressed his handkerchief firmly over his face almost immediately. Fluey fought against it, but was overcome in a matter of seconds.

"Come on," Raphael said, slinging the unconscious teenager over his shoulder. "We've got work to do."


	11. Down the Aisle

By daybreak on The Big Day, Phyllis was practically running around the house like a chicken with it's head cut off. She felt like there was a million things to do before that afternoon. Big D was just sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, and drinking a cup of coffee, calm as ever.

"Calm yourself down, Phyllis," he commented, not bothering to look up from the paper.

"Calm down?" Phyllis shouted. "How can I calm down? I've got a million things to do, and a million things to worry about! What if it rains?"

"The wedding is indoors, and the reception is right next to the chapel. Rain will not be a problem."

"What if the flowers don't arrive on time?"

"I've already called the florist. They are going to call me when they deliver the flowers to the chapel."

"And the photographer?"

"Confirmed."

"The catering?"

"I've already talked to Mrs. Collins about it. She's at the diner right now, making some last minute preparations."

"And my dress and the girls' dresses?"

"They're already at the chapel. Remember? You said you and the girls might find it easier to leave your dresses at the chapel and get dressed there? Mainly because you didn't want your brother getting his hands on them. Again. And before you say anything else, I've confirmed your appointment at the salon downtown for your hair, as well as the girls' hair. Now sit down, and have some breakfast, otherwise, you'll end up passing out halfway down the aisle."

"All right, all right."

Phyllis walked over to the counter, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Big D put the newspaper down, walked over, and took the cup out of her hands.

"You won't be needing this today," he said, draining the coffee into the sink. "You're amped up enough as it is."

"Sorry," Phyllis said. "I'm just worried, chief. I just _know_ Fluey's going to pull something."

"If he knows what's good for him, he won't," Big D said. "I've confined him to his room for the next two days, and if he disobeys me just _one_ more time . . . . ."

Phyllis nodded. She knew it was better _not_ to get Big D angry. He _was_ good at keeping his temper, but heaven help you if you pushed him too far.

"Do me a favor and go take him some breakfast," Big D said. "He may be grounded, but I don't want him to starve all day."

"Right, chief."

Phyllis grabbed a bowl, a glass, and some cereal out of the cabinet, got some milk and orange juice out of the refrigerator, and fixed up a quick breakfast. Then she put the juice and cereal on a tray, and went upstairs with it. She knocked on the door.

"Hey, Fluey, are you up?" she asked. No answer. Phyllis figured he was still asleep. She slowly opened the door, and saw what she apparently thought was Fluey, completely sacked out. But it wasn't really. Fluey had prepared for either Big D or Phyllis to check on him during the middle of the night, so he placed a couple of pillows under the comforter, to make them think he was still sleeping. And both Big D and Phyllis knew darn well Fluey was a _very_ heavy sleeper. Not even a sonic boom going off in the backyard would wake him up!

"Figures," Phyllis sighed. "Oh well. I'll just leave his breakfast here. I'm sure Big D won't mind if he sleeps all day, just this once."

Phyllis put the tray down on Fluey's desk, and left, closing the door behind her. Then she came downstairs.

"He's still asleep," she reported. "I figured you wouldn't mind if he sleeps all day."

"Normally, I would," Big D said. "I don't want him to get into a habit of this. However, if he spends the entire day sleeping, then at least I'll know he'll stay out of trouble."

Phyllis nodded, and she went to get her own breakfast.

Across town, Coiley was having his own breakfast while watching Courtney walk up and down the kitchen. She'd take a step, stop, take another step, stop again, and so on and so on.

"Courtney?" Coiley's father, George Collins, asked. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing," Courtney said.

"What do you need to practice for?" Coiley asked. "You already know how to be a flower girl. Remember, you were the flower girl at Sue's wedding."

"I remember," Courtney said. "But I'm practicing to make sure I don't forget."

"Oh brother," Coiley groaned. Then he finished his breakfast, stuck his dishes in the dishwasher, and started to leave.

"Where are you going?" George asked.

"Over to Multi's," Coiley said. The boys were so used to referring to each other by their code names, they very rarely used their given names anymore, unless it was in front of someone who wasn't aware of their double lives.

"I'll see you guys at the wedding," Coiley continued, as he headed for the door. "Though you guys are going to have to get there early. Courtney's dress is at the chapel already, and she may need some time getting into it, you know. That, and Phyllis and Raphael are going to be doing some photos before the ceremony."

"I know," George said. "It took your mother nearly twelve hours to pull herself together before we got married. Just don't tell her I said that."

Coiley laughed, and then went out to the Impossi-Mobile to head over to Multi's house. Multi was just finishing up breakfast when he arrived.

"Hi, Multi," he said. "Ready for the big day?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Multi said.

"So now that Franky's been kicked out of the wedding, who's gonna escort Danalleah down the aisle, anyway?" Multi's older sister, Windy, asked.

"I think Phyllis asked Dr. Phelps if Jamie would do it," Coiley said. "That's the last I heard."

"I guess we'll find out when we get there," Multi said, shrugging. "It's going to feel kind of weird, though. The three of us are so used to doing these things together, you know?"

"Well, he brought it all on himself, you know," Windy replied. "If he hadn't tried to sabotage the wedding, and if he hadn't tried to kill his sister's fiance during the rehearsal . . . . ."

"Yeah, do me a favor, would you, Win?" Multi asked. "Stay out of this, okay?"

Windy just shrugged. Then she heaved a sigh.

"I _love_ weddings," she said, dreamily. "I can't wait until I get married."

"I can," Multi's father, Ken, mumbled under his breath.

"Da-ad!" Windy shouted, having heard him.

"Sorry," Ken said, shrugging. "I don't blame Franky for going all nutso. I'd do the same thing if it were Windy getting married."

"Dad, if it were Windy getting married, you'd want to have the guy drawn and quartered," Multi commented.

"I thought Franky was the wise guy of the three of you," Ken said, giving his son a Look. Multi just shrugged, then he and Coiley went to get Skittles and work on some last minute preparations for the wedding.

Meanwhile, Fluey was just starting to come around. That was some strong stuff that Raphael and Luke used to knock him out. He groaned, and shook his head out for a moment in order to clear it, and looked around his surroundings. All he could gather was that wherever he was, it was dark. He couldn't see much. He also knew he was sitting on the floor, and tied to a pole, or a beam or something. His ankles were tied together as well, and Raphael and Luke had gagged him to keep him quiet. He felt cold metal against his wrists, and he figured these two must have handcuffed his hands behind the pole.

_Great,_ he thought. _How am I gonna get out of this one?_

Fluey began struggling, trying to slip at least one of his hands out of the metal cuffs. As he was working on that, the door slowly creaked open, and a light clicked on. Once the light was turned on, Fluey saw that he was in some kind of closet, or storage room or something. He figured he was probably at a warehouse or something. He heard footsteps coming toward him, so he looked up and saw Luke standing there.

"Yo, Vince!" he called out. "He's awake!"

"Good," Raphael (or is it Vincent?) said, walking over. "Good, good, good. Mornin', Franky-boy. About time you woke up. We were getting worried about ya."

Fluey shot Raphael a dirty look, that clearly said, "yeah, right." Then he continued trying to maneuver his hands free.

"Come on, kid, you know you're never gonna get anywhere that way," Luke said. "What are we gonna do with him, Vince?"

"I don't know yet," Raphael said.

"Well, we gotta do _some_thing with him before the wedding!" Luke shouted. "We can't leave him here all day."

"Sure we can. As long as he stays tied up."

"What if he manages to get loose?"

"Naw, he won't get loose."

Raphael then took a switchblade knife out of his pocket and activated the blade. Then he kneeled next to Fluey, and held the side of the blade against Fluey's throat. Fluey gasped, and began to get nervous.

"In fact, Franky-boy is gonna be good and do _every_thing we tell him to," Raphael said. "Because if he doesn't, we'll off his sister and send the sheik his girlfriend instead. And maybe we'll bump off his grandaddy while we're at it, if he misbehaves. And we'll make him watch as we slowly slit Grandad's throat. What do you say to that, Franky-boy? You gonna be a good little boy and do everything we tell ya?"

Fluey slowly nodded his head. He had no idea if these guys were bluffing or not, but he didn't want to take chances. Once Fluey nodded, Raphael deactivated the switchblade, and tightened the ropes binding Fluey to the pole.

"Good," he said, reinforcing Fluey's gag while he was at it. "Now look, kid. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to stay in here, and stop moving around. You're gonna be a good little boy, and sit still until we get back from the wedding. And you're not gonna make any noise, otherwise, your sister's gonna get it. Get it?"

Again, Fluey nodded. Raphael laughed deviously, tousled Fluey's hair a bit, and stood up.

"Just remember what I told ya, Franky-boy," he said. "If you want your sister and your grandpa to stay alive, you'd better do what we say."

Both Raphael and Luke laughed, as they left the storage room, turning off the lights, and closing and locking the door behind them. Even though they had shut the door, Fluey could still hear them.

"Man, I still say we bump the kid off now," Luke said.

"No," Raphael said. "We can't kill him here and now. Besides, we _might_ need him alive."

"How come?"

"Insurance. Just in case Phyllis, Gramps, or one of the kid's pals gets wise to our little plan. We'll finish the job after we get out of the country. Better call the airline and get an extra ticket for the kid."

"Gotcha."

Fluey just sat there and sighed. It looked like there wasn't any way out of this one.

About an hour later, Phyllis was up in her bedroom, picking through her jewelry box, trying to decide which pieces of her collection would go best with her wedding gown. As she was going through her jewelry box, she found a little ring buried at the bottom of it. It wasn't anything spectacular, just a little plastic ruby on a plastic silver setting. She remembered the day she got it. It was Valentine's Day, and she was six years old. It had been at the local park Phyllis went to every day after school with Daisy and her mother. A little boy, about nine years old, had given it to her. He found it in a box of Cracker Jacks. He and Phyllis had met the summer before. Phyllis was five then, and her playmate was eight. Phyllis had been eating an ice cream cone, but it fell off the cone after a couple of licks, and she started crying. An eight-year-old boy came up to her, and gave her his ice cream cone. And every day after that, Phyllis would go to the park and play with the little boy, until he announced his family was moving. He gave her the ring he found in the Cracker Jacks box as a goodbye present, and Phyllis gave him a little clay heart she made in art class. The sad part was that she never even new his name. She had all but forgotten about that little boy, until she pulled the little ring out. As she was thinking about it, Big D knocked on her door.

"I just came to see how things were going," the chief said.

"They're going fine," Phyllis said.

"What are you holding?"

"Oh . . . . just this little plastic ring."

Big D walked over, and took a look at that ring. Then he smiled.

"I remember this," he said. "You were six years old, and you said a boy at the park gave it to you. Then I remember you saying once you were grown up, you were going to find this boy and marry him."

"Yeah, and you said how could I find him and marry him if I didn't even know his name," Phyllis said. "To this day, I still don't have the slightest idea who that boy was."

"Considering you've had several young men in your life."

Phyllis nodded, and put the plastic ring back in her jewelry box. Then she took her string of pearls and her matching pearl earrings, and put them on. Then she took them off, and put them in her purse.

"I think I'd better wait to put those on until after I get into my dress," she said.

"Good idea," Big D commented. Then he sighed. "I honestly didn't think this day would ever come. I really didn't. I can only hope you're sure about going through with this."

"I'm sure, chief," Phyllis said. "This is the right one. I know it."

"If you're sure."

"Don't tell me you still don't like him, chief!"

"I'm not fond of the man, if that's what you mean. But . . . . . if he makes you happy, then that's all I'm concerned about."

Phyllis just smiled. She knew Big D wasn't the type to get all sentimental and mushy over things like this. It was just the way he was.

Exactly half an hour later, everyone was at the chapel, getting ready for the "Moment of Truth." Being the traditionalist that she was, Phyllis had opted to take most of the wedding party photos after the ceremony, since it was considered bad luck for the bride and the groom to see each other before the ceremony.

"I sure hope everything goes smoothly," Coiley commented.

"I hope so, too," Multi said. Then he sighed. "I don't know, I'm starting to get a funny feeling about this."

"Yeah, me too. I don't know exactly what it is, though."

"Me neither."

While the boys were trying to figure this whole thing out, Phyllis was putting some final touches to her hair and make up. As she was doing this, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's me," a familiar Texas-accented voice said. Phyllis knew it belonged to Mike. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, Mike," Phyllis said, a little surprised. The door opened, and Mike walked in, wearing his usual coveralls.

"What are you doing here?" Phyllis asked. "Big D said you weren't coming to the wedding, and I thought you'd be halfway to Texas by now!"

"Yeah, I know, but I booked a flight that leaves tomorrow," Mike replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I'm not plannin' on stayin', I just dropped by to say good luck, you know. Uhhh, I've also got a present for you, but would you mind openin' it now, considerin' I'm leavin' tomorrow, and all . . . . ."

Mike handed a small box to Phyllis. It wasn't wrapped in any fancy paper, just tied with a piece of silver ribbon. Phyllis opened the box, and unwrapped something from the tissue paper. Inside was a clay heart. She stared at it for a few seconds, and then turned it over. On the back were the words "Phyllis Dawson Grade 1" etched in it.

"Where . . . . . where did you get this?" she asked, looking at Mike, oddly.

"Well . . . . . you probably don't remember, 'cause it was a long time ago," Mike said, again rubbing the back of his neck. "But . . . . you gave it to me at the park on Valentine's Day. You were six, and I was nine, and my dad and I were movin' back to Texas, 'cause he was in the army, and that's where we ended up transferred to. And I gave you this plastic ring I found in a box of Cracker Jacks."

Phyllis just held the clay heart in her hand. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She and Mike had known each other and worked together at the SSHQ for three years, and she never even realize that he was the little boy she said she would one day marry. And she knew he couldn't have been making that story up. She never told _any_one about the ring, or the clay heart. As far as she knew, only Big D knew the story, and he wasn't the type to go around telling those kinds of stories.

"In any case, I'd better hit the road before someone sees me and calls the etiquette police or somethin'," Mike said. "You know, I always wanted to ask you out, but I never got the chance. Not enough nerve, I guess. And . . . . I also guess it's too late now."

Phyllis simply nodded. Then Mike left, and she sat down, trying to get her bearings. This was a revelation she wasn't prepared for.

As Mike was leaving the chapel, he saw an old Volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. It looked as if it had seen better days. It was a bit rusty, and painted a disgusting olive green color. As he stood there, staring at the monstrosity, the front doors opened, and out came Raphael and Luke, all dressed up for the wedding.

"Hey!" Mike called out. "What's with the van?"

"The Ferrari broke down," Raphael said quickly. "We had to use Luke's V-dub here."

"She may be old and rusty, but she runs like a dream," Luke said.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Mike?" Raphael asked. "Don't tell me you're here for the wedding, dressed like a grease monkey!"

"Well, Raph, I _am_ a grease monkey," Mike said, shrugging. "I just came by to see Phyllis, and wish her good luck."

"Oh," Raphael said. "Well . . . . gotta go. See you around."

"Yeah," Mike said, getting a good look at the van's license plate. Raphael and Luke then went into the chapel. As they were going in, Raphael accidentally dropped an envelope on the ground. Mike picked it up, opened it, and looked at the documents inside of it.

"You will," he said, and he dashed over to his motorcycle. He twisted one of the handlebars slightly, and the dash opened up revealing a computer inside of it. Immediately, Mike began typing. That van of Luke's looked about as familiar to him as Raphael did, and he wanted to check in on the license plate.

Finally, it was time to get things started. Though Big D noticed Phyllis looked a little out of it all of a sudden.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "All of a sudden, you seem distracted."

"Oh," Phyllis said, shrugging. "Nerves, I guess."

Actually, Phyllis was thinking about the conversation she had with Mike a few minutes ago. She was beginning to wonder if she _was_ making the right decision. Did she really love Raphael, or was she really _that_ desperate to get married, just because all of her friends were married? She didn't have too much time to think about that much. The next thing she knew, she was walking down the aisle. But she was still a bit in a fog. But she managed to snap back to attention at one point.

"If anyone here has any reason why these two should not be wed," the minister said, "speak now or forever hold your peace."

"HOLD IT!" a voice from the back of the chapel screamed. Everyone turned around and saw Mike Rogers standing there, holding some papers in his hand.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you _can't_ continue this ceremony!" he shouted.

"I assume you have a perfectly logical explanation for this, Rogers," Big D said, calmly, but everyone could tell he wasn't amused.

"I do, chief," Mike said. "I can prove that Raphael Caprezio is nothin' more than a fake! He and his pal arrived on the scene in an old van that I _knew_ I've seen before. And he happened to drop an envelope on the way inside the chapel, and this was inside."

Mike handed the papers he was holding to Big D and he looked through them.

"What the devil?" he asked. "Letters to a Middle Eastern sheik . . . . . and photos of women that mysteriously disappeared, ones we've been trying to track down for months. We'd been working on a human trafficking case for awhile now, but we didn't have any leads."

"Until now," Mike said. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the mastermind of a human trafficking ring, Mr. Vincent de Leo, alias Raphael Caprezio!"

Raphael just stood there, calmly. His "parents," Mario and Francesca stood up from their places in the congregation.

"Oh the humiliation!" Francesca shouted, sounding a bit overdramatic.

"How could you do this to us, my son?" Mario shouted, sounding just as overly dramatic as Francesca.

"Don't buy that, Big D," Mike said. "Those two are Harold Dupre and Ginger Astor. They're part of de Leo's gang, and so is Luke!"

"How did you find this out, Mike?" Coiley asked.

"It wasn't until I saw the van," Mike said. "Six years ago, in Texas, my father and I were makin' a run to the grocery store when we saw this guy with a thirteen-year-old girl, and he was tryin' to shove her into the back of this disgustin' olive green Volkswagen van. And the girl was strugglin' somethin' fierce. My dad knew this was a kidnappin' attempt, and he decided to step in, and I followed. Dad and the guy got into a fight, and as they were goin' at it, I took the girl inside the store so she could call her parents, and the police. Then I ran back outside just in time to see the guy take out a gun, and shoot my father, about five times in the chest, right through the heart. Dad didn't even know what hit him, so I guess that was a blessing, I don't know. Luckily, the police came, and arrested the murderer. That's when I found out his name was Vincent de Leo, and he was convicted of murder, thanks to my testimony on the witness stand, as well as the thirteen-year-old girl's testimony. So, obviously, he escaped prison, changed his name a multitude of times, and carried on in the practice of human traffickin'. When I saw that van of his, I looked it up on my computer in my motorcycle. I knew I had my man, even though he altered his appearance between six years ago and now."

Mike handed a picture of Vincent de Leo from six years ago. It looked a bit like Raphael, except in the picture, his hair was long, greasy, and unkempt, and he had a scraggly looking goatee. But the face was definitely the same.

"I believe we have some questions for you, Mr. Caprezio," Big D said, glaring at Raphael.

"There's obviously some mistake here," Raphael said, calmly. Then, in a lightning quick move, he reached into the jacket of his tuxedo, and whipped out a gun. Then he grabbed Phyllis by the arm, pulled her close to him, and put the barrel of the gun against her right temple. Naturally, people began panicking.

"Nobody move!" Raphael shouted. "Everyone stay right where you are!"

Everyone immediately froze, except for Luke, and Raphael's alleged "parents." They took their own guns out, and held them up.

"Okay, now, everyone on the floor," Raphael continued.

"I've had enough of this tomfoolery," Big D said. "I've a good mind to . . . ."

Raphael then pressed his gun against the side of Phyllis's head again, and tightened his grip on her. His finger was on the trigger, and dangerously close to pulling it. That stopped Big D in his tracks.

"You want me to blow her brains out, Gramps?" Raphael asked.

Big D glared at Raphael, and got down on the floor. There was no way in the world he was going to take the chance of this nut killing his granddaughter, _that _was for sure.

"I'm glad you see it my way," Raphael said with a laugh. "Harry, Ging, keep these guys covered. Make sure none of them gets outta here without hearing from me first."

"Gotcha, boss," Ginger said.

"Come on, Luke," Raphael said. "Let's make like a banana and split."

"Right," Luke said, and he grabbed hold of Phyllis's other arm. "Let's move, Doll Face."

"Oh yeah, one more thing, Gramps," Raphael said, to Big D. "Don't try to be a hero. We've also got your snoopy little grandson."

"_What?_" Big D shouted.

"Yeah, he broke into our apartment and we caught him snooping around last night," Raphael said. "So I recommend you do everything I say, old man, or else you ain't never seeing either of your grandkids again!"

Big D just glared. This was the only thing that would render him helpless: _both_ his grandchildren in trouble. Coiley and Multi were at a bit of a stand still as well. And they had the same idea Big D had. Keep calm, and do _every_thing they were told to do for the moment. When it came to hostage situations, the boys had been trained not to take unnecessary risks. They would have to wait until an opportunity opened up.

Raphael and Luke practically dragged Phyllis out to their van, and opened the back doors. Phyllis climbed in. Normally, she would have just karate chopped them both, and kicked them both where she knew it would do the most damage (and she was wearing a pair of high heels, for that matter), but she wasn't about to do that, not with a gun pointed right at her, _that's_ for sure (after all, who would want to take their chances when you've got a gun pointed on you?)

"Let's get back to the hideout," Raphael said, as he and Luke climbed into the front of the van, and started it up. They were just about to pull out of the parking lot when a blue motorcycle drove up, and blocked the van's path. It was Mike. He had managed to slip out of the chapel when Raphael was shooting the ceiling.

"Goin' somewhere, bud?" he asked.

"Get outta the way, you overgrown grease stain!" Luke shouted.

"I ain't goin' nowhere and neither are you fellas!" Mike shouted.

"Okay, Tex, you asked for it!" Luke shouted, and he put the van into reverse and started backing up. Mike stood firm.

"What are you going to do?" Phyllis asked, nervously.

"You'll see, toots," Luke said, and he snickered evilly. Raphael smiled sneakily.

"Give 'er all she's got, Luke," he said.

"Check," Luke replied. "I'm gonna run him, and his bike, over!"

"No!" Phyllis yelled.

Luke didn't pay any attention to her. He slammed on the gas pedal and came racing toward Mike and his cycle at top speed, leaving tire tracks in the pavement.

"I can't watch!" Phyllis shouted, and she sat down on the floor of the van, covering her eyes with her hands. The next thing she heard was the sickening sound of crashing metal. She definitely felt the impact, but the van kept right on going. Phyllis stood up, and dared to look out of the back windows of the van. She saw Mike's motorcycle, mangled up and completely destroyed. Bits and pieces of it were scattered all over the parking lot, but she didn't see Mike anywhere. But somehow, she just _knew_ he must have ended up a mangled mess as well. There was no way he could have jumped out of the way in time. And Luke and Raphael were howling with laughter over it, like a couple of hyenas.

"That takes care of that," Raphael said. "On to the hideout so we can close the deal with the sheik!"


	12. Plans Made

Mike hadn't been the only one to sneak out of the chapel during the chaos. Being so little and fast, Skittles managed to beat a hasty retreat without being noticed. She made it outside just in time to see Mike's bike get mangled and mutilated by that old Volkswagen. But where _was_ Mike? Skittles sniffed around a little, until she came to some shrubbery nearby. She sniffed around a bit, until she came across what looked like a hand. She followed the hand, and sure enough, there was Mike, laying unconscious in the shrubs. Skittles whimpered, and nudged him a little, until he finally came to.

"Oooohhh," he groaned, starting to get up. "Memo to me. Never _ever_ get in the path of a chargin' V-dub. At least not without wearin' a helmet."

Skittles barked, jumped into the mechanic's arms, gently licking a nasty looking scrape on his cheek. He also had a few scrapes on his arms and hands, as well as a few bruises, a slight bump on the noggin, and his jumpsuit was torn in various places, but none worse for the wear.

"Come on," he said to the puppy. "I've got an idea how to handle things inside."

Mike carried Skittles around the back of the church, and went in through the back doors. Then, he and Skittles quietly made their way to the nave where everyone was still sitting around, not moving. Mike couldn't blame them. After all, nobody knew if Harry and Ginger's guns were loaded or not. Mike then took a cigarette lighter out of his pocket, and flipped it open. It was his communication device. He punched something into the keypad, and waited a few moments. Then he began punching something in again.

During this time, Big D felt something vibrating on his wrist. Immediately, he knew what it was. An agent had punched in a special code to the vibrate setting. Very slowly, Big D raised his wrist, and pushed a button on his communicator. Harry and Ginger didn't notice. They were discussing something about a pay raise. The minute Big D activated his communicator, a line of text appeared on the screen, as opposed to an agent's face.

_Hiya, boss. It's Mike Rogers. Just sit tight. I've got this idea that'll get Bonnie and Clyde over there out of the way. Just stay put for right now, and keep the communication line open. I'll send you a beep when I'm ready for you to come in with a karate chop or something along those lines._

Big D slowly lowered his wrist, and waited, wondering what in the world Mike had up his sleeve. He got the answer soon enough, though. The minute he lowered his wrist, a flash of blue lightning zoomed by, causing a gust of wind to follow it. The flash slammed into Ginger, and she crashed into Harry, and both of them fell to the ground, dropping their guns in the process. Big D heard a beep from his communicator, and got up. Both Harry and Ginger were too discombobulated to even notice. Harry finally managed to pull himself together, got to his knees, and grabbed his gun, but he was met with a karate chop to the back of the neck, which knocked him unconscious.

"Hey!" Ginger shouted. "Okay, Gramps, we warned you! I don't think you realize who you're dealing with, and . . . . ."

"And I don't think _you_ realize who _you're_ dealing with, madam," Big D said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket, revealing his SSHQ ID badge.

"Secret Security Headquarters?" Ginger asked, as she read the badge. Then, she dropped her gun in complete surprise. Big D picked it up, and held it on Ginger for the moment.

"And maybe you also didn't realize that the congregation is mostly made up of SSHQ agents," he continued. "Which include two of my top agents. Do your stuff, boys."

Immediately, Coiley and Multi whipped out their transformers, pushed the buttons on them. In a flash of psychedelic colors, they had turned into their superhero alter egos.

"Oh crud," Ginger groaned. "The Impossibles. I never woulda guessed the singing group and the superhero group were the same. I thought you guys wouldn't be _dumb_ enough to name your crime busting team after your band name."

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, lady," Coiley said. "Which is it gonna be?"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Ginger shouted. "I ain't about to give up without a fight! And you two can't do anything about it because you're bound by a moral code saying that you can't strike a woman, even if she's a criminal!"

"True," Multi said. "But we _do_ have an advantage. Right chief?"

"Indeed," Big D said, and he turned to FG. "I believe the ball is in your court, Miss Quinn."

"Roger, chief," FG said, and she touched her left earring, which allowed her to transform into her superheroine identity as Fluid Girl.

"Eh?" Ginger asked. "But . . . . . but I thought this one was supposed to be a guy! What'd he do? Take a side trip to Sweden and turn himself into a girl or something?"

"No," FG said. "I'm just pinch hitting for him right now, considering he's . . . . . indisposed, as it were. And speaking of hitting . . . . ."

FG went into a full conversion and swept over Ginger in the form of a giant tidal wave, which splashed her into the wall.

"Give up?" Multi asked, as he and Coiley walked over.

"Yeah," Ginger said. "We give up."

"Good," Big D said, as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on Harry. "Now, where's Caprezio, or de Leo, or whatever his name is, hiding?"

"I don't know," Ginger said. "His hideouts change every time we pull a job. Harry and I never know where he and Luke go."

Big D said nothing, and ordered a couple of the agents to take care of Harry and Ginger. Once the two crooks were out of the building, Big D began pacing around, trying to think of what to do now.

"We might not need them to talk, chief," Shawn said. "We can just hone in on Fluey's communicator and . . . . ."

"I'm afraid that's not an option, Miss Smith," Big D said. "Due to his shenanigans over the entire wedding situation, I suspended him. And upon suspending him, I confiscated his transformer _and_ his communicator. And I know for a fact Phyllis does not have her communicator with her, either."

"That's not good," FG said. "How are we going to find them now?"

"No problem whatsoever," Mike said. "I had a backup plan in case I didn't figure out my hunch on Vince de Leo in time. I put the MTD on the back of his V-dub."

"MTD?" Coiley asked.

"Miniature Tracking Device," Big D said. "One of Dr. Johnson's most ingenious inventions. It's a tiny device, so small you can hardly see it, and it can be attached to _any_thing."

"And even though it's small, it's powerful," Mike said. "And it can be accessed through any SSHQ tracker, from my lighter communicator to the boys' guitars to the Impossi-Mobile, and then some."

"Excellent work, Rogers," Big D said.

"Thanks, boss," Mike said. "So what are we just standin' around flappin' our gums for? Let's move!"

While Mike led the charge, Vince and Luke had just returned to their hideout with Phyllis. Once they were inside, Vince got his briefcase out, and handed Phyllis the Arabian princess outfit Fluey had found.

"Change into that," he ordered.

"Where's Franky?" Phyllis asked.

"In another room," Raphael said. "You'll get to see him after you get changed."

"And just what are you planning on doing with Franky?"

"You'll find out when the time is right."

Phyllis accepted that, and went into another room to get out of her wedding gown and into this costume. While she was gone, Raphael and Luke went over to the storage room where they were keeping Fluey. Once they opened the door, Fluey looked up at them.

_Man, that was a short ceremony,_ he thought, considering not much time had passed since they had left. Raphael walked over, took some keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the handcuffs while Luke got to work untying Fluey.

"We've had a slight change of plans, kid," Raphael said. "Your grease monkey pal found us out, and stopped the wedding."

"So what are you gonna do with me now?" Fluey asked, once Raphael removed his gag.

"You're gonna be joining your sister," Raphael said, as Luke pulled Fluey to his feet. He held Fluey by the arms so the teenager wouldn't try to make a run for it while Raphael left the room for a moment or so. He returned with a set of clothes.

"What's this for?" Fluey asked.

"Just change into them," Raphael said. "Your sister's already changing into her own outfit. Hurry up and change. Your sister wants to see you. We'll be back in ten minutes."

Luke practically threw Fluey to the floor, and Raphael tossed the change of clothes at him. Then, the two of them left, locking the door behind them. Exactly ten minutes later, they unlocked the closet door. Fluey was standing there, glaring at the two of them with his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a long, white Indian style shirt with dark blue embroidery around the collar and cuffs, black pants, and his go-go boots.

"Not bad, not bad," Raphael said, looking him over. Then he grabbed his arm. "Come on, squirt. Let's go see if your sister's ready."

Raphael practically dragged Fluey by the arm across the hall, and knocked on the door.

"You ready in there, Phyllis?" he asked.

"Yes," Phyllis answered.

"Just so you know, I've got your twerpy brother standing right here next to me," Raphael said. "And Luke's standing right behind him."

"With a gun at my back no less, sis!" Fluey called out. Raphael covered the teenager's mouth with his hand for the moment.

"Pipe down, twerp," he mumbled. "In any case, babe, Luke's got a gun on your brother, so you'd better not try anything stupid when I open the door."

The next thing the guys heard was Phyllis mumbling, and then something fell to the floor, but they weren't sure what. Raphael then unlocked the door, and he figured out what that crash was, when he saw an overturned wooden chair, and Phyllis stepping away from it.

"And what were you planning on doing with that?" he asked.

"Nothing now," Phyllis said, glaring at him.

"Well, let's have a look at you," Raphael said, as he practically threw Fluey over to Luke, and began circling Phyllis, checking over how she looked in that Arabian princess outfit.

"Good," he said, nodding. "Good, good, good. This is perfect."

Raphael walked over to the overturned chair, set it straight, and turned to Luke.

"Tie him up," he said.

"Got it," Luke replied, dragging Fluey into the room. He threw him into the chair, and tied him to it, tightly.

"So what are you gonna do with us?" Fluey asked, as Luke restrained him.

"You two are going to a small, middle eastern country called Abrah Khadabrah," Raphael said. "Sheik Abdullah Ahblanghatta is awaiting the arrival of his new golden haired princess. He says you'll make a perfect edition to his harem, Phyllis."

"And what about Franky?" Phyllis asked, folding her arms across her chest, and glaring.

"He's going to be working for the sheik," Raphael said. "Basically, if the sheik gives you an order, he'll carry it out No questions asked."

"You gotta be kidding," Fluey said. "No way, buster! I'm not gonna be anybody's slave!"

"Oh yes you are," Raphael said. "We've already made the arrangements. It would be wise for you to keep your mouth shut, Franky-boy."

"You can forget that, pal!" Fluey shouted. "I'm not just gonna sit around here, and let you . . . . ."

Raphael then clapped his hand over Fluey's mouth, and turned to Luke.

"Gag him," he said. "This kid talks too much."

"Gotcha," Luke said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and used it to gag Fluey, the second Raphael took his hand off the dark-haired teenager's mouth. Raphael smirked, grabbed hold of Fluey's chin, and tilted his head up.

"Just so you know, Franky-boy," he said. "Punishment for a servant back-talking the sheik is immediate beheading!"

Fluey gulped. He had no idea if Raphael was kidding or not, but he didn't want to take chances. Raphael snickered, and pulled up another chair, positioning it with it's back directly against the back of the chair Fluey was tied to.

"Have a seat, princess," he said. Phyllis sat down in the chair, and Raphael and Luke began tying her to it.

"Just a precaution, doll," Luke said. "Just in case you have any ideas of untying your brother while our backs are turned."

Raphael then took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and gagged Phyllis with it.

"Just in case," he said, simply. "We wouldn't want to draw any attention to ourselves right now, would we?"

Phyllis didn't even acknowledge Raphael. She just sat there, calmly. It was about all she and Fluey could do for now.

"So now what happens?" Luke asked.

"Now, we sit and wait," Raphael said. "The flight to Abrakadabrah doesn't leave until midnight, and it's the only flight we can get."

Luke and Raphael began laughing as they left their captives for the moment. Fluey immediately began struggling, but it wasn't going to do him any good. He was tied too tightly. The only way he could get out of that was if he went into a liquid conversion, but that wasn't possible at the moment.

Luckily, it was that moment when the other two Impossibles, Skittles, Big D, Mike, and the girls caught up with Luke's van outside an old, abandoned warehouse.

"That's the van all right," Mike said. "I'd know it anywhere."

"I'll have to agree on that one," Coiley said. "You see something like that, you _can't_ forget it. Yeccchh!"

"How do we know they're inside?" Shawn asked.

"Maybe I should sneak in through a vent or something, and . . . . ." FG suggested.

"No," Mike said. "They'll be expectin' somethin' like that. When workin' out of Megatropolis, crooks know at some point, they're gonna have a run in with the Impossibles. You guys are almost as famous as crime busters as you are rock stars."

"So what do we do?" Coiley asked.

"You leave everything to me," Mike said, and he took what looked like a black doctor's bag out of the Impossi-Mobile. "Set your communicators, gang. Just in case I need some back up."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Rogers," Big D said.

"Trust me, chief," Mike said. Then he picked up Skittles, and started heading for the back of the warehouse.


	13. And the Chase is On

Mike put Skittles down once he got to the back door of the warehouse. He grabbed hold of the handle, and found the door was locked.

"Figures," he said. "How am I supposed to get in there?"

Skittles barked, and ran off. She came back a few moments later with Multi behind her.

"What's up, Mike?" Multi asked.

"Locked door," Mike said. "Apparently, Skittles thinks you can open it without rousin' attention."

"Got anything like a hair pin, or something like that on you?" Multi asked, kneeling down. Mike opened the doctor's bag, and rooted through it. He came up with a small piece of wire.

"How's this?" he asked.

"Perfect," Multi said. He stuck the wire into the keyhole on the door handle, and maneuvered it around a bit, until he managed to get the door open.

"How'd you do that, Multi?" Mike asked, thoroughly impressed.

"Everybody asks me that," Multi said with a laugh. "I have an older sister who keeps a diary."

"Ah ha. I get it. Well, that trick may come in handy when dealin' with gettin' into an auto engine. Thanks for the help, Multi."

"Are you _sure_ you don't want us to go in there with you?" Multi asked.

"Yeah," Mike said. "Positive. This is somethin' I have to do myself. I owe Vince de Leo somethin' for murderin' my father. But I need you two and the chief to stand by out here. I'll give you guys the buzz when I'm ready for you."

"Okay. Good luck."

Mike picked up his bag, and Skittles, and quietly snuck inside. He put the puppy down on the ground, and she began sniffing about. Then she walked over to Mike, and went into her pointer routine (_poing!_) Mike walked in the directions the pup was pointing, and slowly opened a door, but only a crack. From that crack, he saw Raphael and Luke playing cards, and Fluey and Phyllis tied to a couple of chairs. Mike backed away from the door for a moment, and opened the bag. He took a small bottle, (like the kind they give you at pharmacies), opened it up, and took a pill out of it.

"These pills of Reggie's better work," he said. "They're supposed to make ya invisible for fifteen minutes. Hopefully, fifteen minutes will be all I need to take care of those guys. Now listen, here's the plan. I'm gonna take one of these pills, and go knock ol' Vince and his buddy around a bit. What I want you to do is go in there and chew through those ropes. But wait until I've got Vince and Luke distracted. Up to the challenge, babe?"

Skittles stood up on her hid legs, barked, and saluted Mike.

"Atta girl!" Mike shouted. "Let's get this party started!"

Mike opened the door a little more, which allowed Skittles to get inside. Then, she snuck down toward Fluey and Phyllis, and waited. Mike took two of the pills out of the bottle, and swallowed them. He began to fade out until he was completely invisible. He snuck in as quietly as he could, and snuck up behind Luke.

"Why'd you have to get a flight that didn't leave until midnight, anyway?" Luke asked.

"To avoid suspicion," Raphael said. "I figured we'd be at the reception partying all night."

"Yeah, I could kill that grease monkey. The reception woulda eaten up a lot of hours."

"Well there's nothing we can do about it now, so quit complaining."

They were silent for awhile. Then, suddenly, Luke smacked Raphael across the face as hard as he could.

"Ow!" Raphael shouted. "What'd you do that for?"

"I didn't!" Luke shouted. "I swear! It was like somebody grabbed my hand, and . . . . ."

Before Luke could finish that sentence, he wound up slapping Raphael again. And again! Then he began slapping him in the face with both hands. Raphael began to get fed up and _he_ began slapping Luke. Both Phyllis and Fluey gave them weird looks. It looked like something out of an old Three Stooges movie. All that was missing was the "nyuck, nyuck, nyucks." As they were watching, they heard the unmistakable sound of an animal trying to chew through something. Fluey looked down, and saw Skittles, gnawing at the ropes that held him and his sister to the chairs. He breathed a sigh of relief once he saw her.

_Atta girl, Skits!_ he thought. Then he went back to watching Raphael and Luke, to make sure they didn't see Skittles. They were just about to break up their fight.

"Okay, wise guy," Raphael said. "You slap me just once more, I'll slug ya!"

And with that, Luke slapped Raphael again. As promised, Raphael slugged Luke so hard, he knocked him unconscious.

"Just remember who's boss around here!" Raphael shouted. Suddenly, he was whacked upside the head, and knocked out cold. Both Fluey and Phyllis were a little surprised. Who in the world could have done _that_? They got their answer a few seconds later when Mike faded in. The effects of Reggie's pill had worn off. With the crooks dispatched, he dashed over and helped Skittles free Fluey and Phyllis.

"Man, Mike, how'd you _do_ that?" Fluey shouted.

"Reggie's experimental invisibility pills," Mike said.

"I was wondering what was happening over there," Phyllis said. "Though I think you've been watching too many Three Stooges movies, Mike."

"Not really," Mike shrugged. "It woulda been too hard to have one of 'em doin' the eye gouge bit. But enough about that. We'd better get outta here and get the chief before they come to."

Before anything else could happen, something hard and heavy hit Mike in the back of the head, knocking him out cold. Raphael and Luke had regained consciousness, and Raphael had slipped in behind Mike, and clobbered him with a wrench. Luke was next to him, and he pulled out a gun.

"Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guys," Raphael said, grabbing Phyllis's arm. "Luke, grab the kid, and get him into the van. We're getting outta here now!"

"Oh no you're not!" Fluey shouted. "Hiyah!"

Fluey was about to karate chop, but Luke grabbed him just before his hand hit Raphael's neck.

"Come on, squirt," he said.

"Skittles!" Fluey shouted. "Sic 'em!"

Skittles growled at the two men and was ready to charge, when Raphael pulled out his own gun, and pressed the barrel of it into the side of Phyllis's head. Luke pressed the barrel of his gun against Fluey's head. Skittles stopped.

"Nice little doggie," Raphael said. "Sit. Stay. And you _will_ stay unless you want us to shoot them, won't you girl?"

Skittles growled a little, but sat down. Multi had trained her _never_ attack if the bad guy's got a gun on someone. So, she just sat there, and allowed Raphael and Luke to take Phyllis and Fluey out of the warehouse. Mike came to his senses a few moments later, just as Raphael and Luke dragged their captives out the door. He took out his cigarette lighter, and activated it.

"They're headin' out, gang!" he shouted. "Stop them!"

The minute Raphael and Luke stepped outside, they were met by what appeared to be an army. An army of Multi Men, to be exact. And Coiley, Big D, and FG were with them.

"Going somewhere?" Coiley asked.

"Oh crud," Luke groaned. "The Impossibles. I shoulda guessed, considering the band name and all, but I didn't think . . . . ."

"Yeah, we know, we know," Multi said. "You'd better surrender, de Leo. We've got you guys surrounded!"

To drive the point further, Multi duplicated himself a little more, surrounding Raphael and Luke. Immediately, Luke took out his pistol, and began firing at the Multi's. Of course, as he was firing, his grip on Fluey began to loosen, and the dark-haired Impossible used this as his chance to escape. He quietly slipped out of Luke's hold, and was about to run for cover (for the moment, anyway. After all, he couldn't make the switch to superhero mode for the moment). Before he could make it back inside the warehouse, he was grabbed from behind by Raphael.

"Oh no you don't!" he hissed, clamping his hand over Fluey's mouth to keep him from yelling out. When Luke started shooting, Raphael had slipped away with Phyllis, and took her to the old van.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not, squirt," he said, and he shoved Fluey into the back of the van, climbed in himself, and shut the back doors, locking them. Phyllis was sitting in the front passenger seat, not only buckled in with the seatbelt, but also tied to it. Raphael then grabbed Fluey by the back of the shirt collar, and forced him down to the floor on his stomach. He took a piece of rope, and tied the teenager's wrists behind his back so tight, his circulation was practically cut off. After he finished there, Raphael took another piece of rope, and tied Fluey's ankles equally tight. Then, he gagged Fluey with a handkerchief.

"That oughta hold you for awhile," he said, smacking Fluey in the back of the head with his hand. Fluey glared at Raphael, and began trying to get himself loose. Then he climbed to the driver's seat, stuck the keys in the ignition, and started up the van, slamming on the gas pedal and peeling out as fast as he possibly could. The sound of squealing tires drew everyone's attention.

"What the . . . . ." Luke started. "Hey! Hey, Vince! What about me?"

"Sorry, Luke!" Raphael shouted, leaning out the window as he made his escape. "It's every man for himself!"

"But . . . . but . . . . ." Luke began, but he didn't get very far when he felt someone slap a pair of handcuffs on him.

"Gotcha!" Coiley shouted.

"Crud," Luke grumbled, as he heard the unmistakable sound of a police siren coming.

"Come on!" Multi shouted, as he ran to the Impossi-Mobile. "We've got to go after Vince!"

"Yeah, he's still got Fluey and Phyllis," Mike said, as he jumped into the Impossi-Mobile, followed by Coiley. "Better convert to Impossi-Jet, we'll catch up to him faster that way."

"You coming, chief?" Coiley asked.

"I'll catch up with you boys later," Big D said.

"Okay," Multi said. "Let's move out!"

"Rally ho!" both Multi and Coiley shouted in unison, as they converted to Impossi-Jet and took off into the air.

Coiley, Multi, Skittles, and Mike flew through the air, using the Impossi-Jet's onboard tracking device to track down the MTD Mike put on the van.

"There it is," Multi said, as he spotted the atrocious olive green colored van rolling down the road.

"I'll take care of it," Mike said, and he pulled out a rifle he had stashed in the Impossi-Jet. Then he opened his doctor's bag, and took out a rectangular box with a big red button on it. When he pushed the red button, the box unfolded, and revealed what looked like a skateboard without wheels.

"What's that, Mike?" Coiley asked.

"A Hover Board," Mike said. "It's one of my latest inventions. It works like a skateboard except you use it in the air instead of on the sidewalk."

Mike stuck his feet into two openings, and two straps automatically fastened tightly around them. Then, Mike took a smaller box from his black bag, strapped it to his wrist using a velcro strap, and plugged a cable into his Hover Board.

"What's that for, Mike?" Multi asked.

"This is the controller," Mike said. "I promise, once this is all over, I'll show you guys how this thing works, but we've got more important stuff to do right now. I'll be back in five to ten."

Mike pushed a couple of buttons on his wristband remote, and took off down toward the VW van. He didn't want to get right behind it, so he stayed above it, trailing it a bit. This way, Raphael wouldn't be able to see him in the van's mirrors. But Multi, Coiley, and Skittles were a little confused at something.

"What's he going to do with that rifle?" Multi asked.

"You don't think he'd actually go and . . . . ." Coiley started.

"No," Multi said, quickly. "Not with Phyllis and Fluey still in there. At least . . . . I don't _think_ he would . . . . ."

Multi, Coiley, and Skittles followed Mike at a distance (and a higher altitude) to see what exactly he was going to do. Mike aimed the rifle carefully, and then fired, blasting one of the tires off the van. Then, he fired three more times, and shot the rest of the tires off. Raphael had no choice to stop. Mike "drove" his Hover Board up to the Impossi-Jet, put a lock on the rifle, and stashed it in the trunk.

"Mike, that was incredible!" Coiley shouted. "Where'd you learn how to shoot like that?"

"It comes naturally when your great-great-great grandmother was Annie Oakley," Mike said, with a shrug. "Come on, we'd better get down there!"

Meanwhile, in the van, Raphael had to do some fast thinking. He saw a wooded area up ahead, and saw this as his chance. He climbed over to the back of the van, hoisted Fluey over his shoulder, used a knife to cut the ropes binding Phyllis to the passenger seat, and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Come on!" he shouted, grabbing her arm.

"Don't you think you're carrying this a little far?" Phyllis asked.

"Not when there's a million smackers on the line, toots! Now shut up and move it, or else your brother's gonna pay the price!"

Phyllis glared at her former fiance, and did as she was told. She knew Fluey didn't have any means of defending himself at the moment, and she definitely didn't want him to get hurt. Mike and the other two Impossibles made chase, but stopped when they reached the woods, and found the van they had been tracking abandoned.

"Darn it!" Mike shouted when he and the two Impossibles discovered the empty van. "I _knew_ I shoulda put the tracker on his person instead of the van!"

"So now what do we do?" Coiley asked. "These woods are too dense to see anything from the Impossi-Jet."

"And the Impossi-Mobile is too bulky to drive through this place," Multi said.

"I probably could navigate through via Hover Board," Mike said, taking his rifle out of the trunk. "But ain't no way all four of us are gonna fit on it. Here's what I suggest. I'll go one way, and you guys go another way, and we'll meet somewhere in the middle, and hopefully, head de Leo off at the pass."

The boys nodded, and they, along with Skittles, went into the woods to search. Luckily, Skittles knew the scent, so that worked to their advantage.


	14. By a Waterfall

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got the idea for Raphael/Vince's comeuppance from an urban legend about a grandmother and her granddaughter's ex-boyfriend. This was another reason I upped the rating of this story to T._

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* * *

_

Raphael had stopped running when he reached a riverbank, and a nearby waterfall. He threw Fluey to the ground, and then sat down himself, leaning against the tree.

"Here we go," he said. "It'll take them awhile to find us here."

"I still think you ought to give yourself up," Phyllis said. "There is absolutely no way my grandfather is going to let you get away with this."

"You gotta be kidding," Raphael said. "What can that old man do to me? I wasn't scared of any of his threats during his little Boyfriend Test! I've been through them all before! I'm an expert at this sort of thing! Boy, you were an easy one, I'll tell ya that!"

"What do you mean?"

"I gotta level with ya, Phyl. The only person who would make a date with a total stranger she backed her car into is a completely desperate person. So desperate for companionship, they'll make a date with just about _any_one! I've gotten a lot of girls to the sheik before, babe, but you have _got_ to be the most pathetic of them all!"

That did it. Phyllis couldn't take anymore of this guy's lip. As Raphael stood there, laughing hysterically over how pathetic Phyllis was, she gave him a kick in the stomach, karate style. Then she slapped him across the face for good measure.

"You creep!" she yelled, giving him a karate chop in the back of his neck.

"Oooh!" Raphael shouted, as he hit the ground. But he recovered quickly. "Okay . . . . . maybe pathetic wasn't the right choice of words."

"You'd better believe it, buster!" Phyllis shouted.

"Who knew you knew karate?"

"I know a lot more than that. And if you think _I'm_ bad, just _wait_ until my grandfather gets to you. He taught me everything I know! And he taught Fl . . . . I mean, Franky, some basics, too."

"Okay . . . . . obviously we got a spirited type here. And it's obvious idle threats aren't gonna make you cooperate anymore. But, I _do_ have a little . . . . . _trick_ I use. The sheik will sometimes allow me to . . . . . break in the inexperienced girls before I give them to him."

Phyllis got a nervous look on her face, and started backing away as Raphael began approaching her. Fluey squirmed around with all his might. He was seeing red at this point. He knew _exactly_ what Raphael had in mind for "breaking in" Phyllis. Finally, he managed to get his wrists loose. Immediately, he untied his ankles, yanked off his gag, and pounced on Raphael from behind, just as he had Phyllis cornered.

"Don't even _think_ about it, you slimeball!" the dark-haired Impossible yelled, holding Raphael in a headlock. This gave Phyllis a chance to take cover, for the time being. She wasn't going to run away. She didn't want to leave Fluey alone with this scum bucket, since he didn't have access to his powers (if he did, she'd be out of there in five seconds flat).

Raphael growled, grabbed Fluey's arm, and flung him over his shoulder. Fluey landed flat on his back on the ground, having the wind knocked out of him. He was too dazed to move. Raphael kneeled over him, and grabbed his wrists, holding him down.

"Looks like you need to be taught a lesson," Raphael said, smiling sneakily. Fluey recognized that look. He had seen it on several guys at Megatropolis High School when they had a date with any one of the cheerleaders. And Megatropolis High's cheerleaders were known to be drop dead gorgeous, and "easy."

"I'm an old pro at this sort of thing, squirt," Raphael said, releasing one of Fluey's wrists for the moment. "I've dealt with brats like you before. Many times. A lot of the girls I send the sheik have overprotective younger brothers. So just relax. It'll all be over before you know it. And trust me, kid. You'll _love_ it!"

Fluey could feel his heart beating in his throat. He tried to resist, but Raphael just rested his knee against the dark haired Impossible's stomach. Raphael smirked, and started loosening his belt. Fluey got a sick look on his face. But before anything could happen, Phyllis slipped in behind him, and clubbed him over the head with a tree branch.

"Let's get out of here!" Phyllis shouted, pulling her brother to his feet.

"Good idea!" Fluey shouted, and he and Phyllis started to make a run for it. Before they could get very far, however, a gunshot rang out, which stopped them both cold.

"Nobody is going anywhere!" Raphael shouted, holding a smoldering gun in his hand. "I'm not a_bout_ to give up a million bucks! You two even _try _to get away, I'll kill you both!"

"You won't get much if you do that," Fluey said. "I don't think the sheik will appreciate her looking like a piece of Swiss cheese."

"And _you'd_ better learn to keep your mouth shut, twerp!" Raphael shouted, sticking the gun right in Fluey's face. "Or else I'll shut it permanently!"

"Leave him alone, Raph!" Phyllis yelled, glaring. "I've about had it with you! You can make all the threats you want at me, but you know as well as I do that you _can't_ kill me! Because if you do, you won't get your million dollars!"

"Maybe not," Raphael said. "But Franky's girlfriend might get me that million if something should happen."

"If she doesn't turn you into a frog first," Fluey said. "She's part witch, and all she has to do is cast a spell over you, and . . . . ."

"All right," Raphael said, grabbing Fluey by the arm. "I've had it. I've had it with you, squirt. I'm gonna take care of you right here and right now!"

"No!" Phyllis shrieked. "Stop, wait! Don't hurt him! I'll cooperate, I'll do anything you want me to, just leave him alone!"

Raphael wasn't going to listen. He aimed the gun carefully, and was about to pull the trigger, when Phyllis suddenly karate chopped his wrist, and then gave him a kick in the stomach, as well as a punch in the nose. Quickly, Fluey grabbed the gun, and tossed it into the river, and the strong current carried it downstream so fast, there was no time to go after it before it was gone, right over the falls. Raphael was not happy about that.

"You little . . . . ." he growled.

"Those are the breaks," Fluey said, shrugging.

"I'll break _you_ in a minute!" Raphael yelled. He grabbed Fluey by the arms, and slammed him against a tree. Fluey banged the back of his head against it hard, and was knocked unconscious. Raphael then grabbed the ropes Fluey had slipped out of, and used them to tie him to the tree. Then he picked up the branch Phyllis had used to bop him over the head with, and hit Fluey in the head twice. He was just about to give Fluey a final whack in the head with it, which he knew would _def_initely kill the boy, when he suddenly heard loud barking coming from the distance. His attention was diverted long enough for Phyllis to make a grab for the branch.

"I told you to leave him alone!" she shouted.

"I give the orders around here, toots!" Raphael shouted, turning his attention to Phyllis, walking toward her, slowly. Phyllis nervously began backing up.

Raphael didn't say a word, but Phyllis had a pretty darn good feeling she knew what he was up to! Just as he was about to reach out and grab her, he felt a sudden, painful sensation on his rear end.

_CHOMP!_

"YEEEOWWWW!" he screamed.

Impossi-Pup had managed to sniff out Fluey and Phyllis, and came charging in, doing what she did best (she _is_ a "crime biter" after all). Impossi-Pup's diversion allowed Phyllis to grab that branch Raphael had (though he let go of it once Impossi-Pup had arrived), and she began whacking at Raphael with it. Coiley and Multi arrived a few moments later. Since Phyllis and Impossi-Pup were handling Raphael (and he was having a heck of a time trying to get the puppy off him), the other two Impossibles quickly got to work untying Fluey.

"Fluey? Fluey, wake up!" Coiley shouted, shaking his unconscious comrade's shoulders a bit.

"No way he's coming around any time soon, Coiley," Multi said. "He's out cold!"

Both Multi and Coiley took a quick glance over at Raphael, Phyllis, and Impossi-Pup. It appeared Phyllis and Impossi-Pup had everything under control for the time being, so they set to work trying to wake up Fluey. He finally started coming around when sirens filled the air, and they were giving him a bigger headache than he already had!

"Oooohhh, my aching head!" he shouted, dazedly.

"Better lay low, Fluey," Coiley suggested. "Judging by the size of that lump on your head, you're in no shape for a fight!"

Fluey had to agree with that one. Not only was he feeling dizzy and disoriented, but his head was _killing_ him! The sirens turned out to be Big D and several SSHQ agents. Big D had returned to HQ in order to dispatch agents he had stationed in the Middle East (as well as the Abrah Khadabrah authorities), and let them know that their sheik was buying young women from all over the world and holding them at his palace against their will. Needless to say, he had been placed under arrest fairly quickly.

"Vincent de Leo, you're under arrest!" Big D shouted.

"Oh no I'm not!" Raphael shouted, as he finally managed to shake Impossi-Pup away from him. He started to make a break for it, when he found himself blocked off by several SSHQ agents. He tried to go in another direction, but Multi, duplicating himself quickly, blocked him off.

"Oh no you don't!" he shouted. "Now come along quietly!"

"No way!" Raphael shouted, turning in another direction. "You'll never take me in! I intend on getting that million bucks from the sheik!"

"That's highly unlikely," Big D said, glaring at Raphael. "My agents in the Middle East have reported that they have apprehended this Sheik Abdullah Ahblanghatta character."

"So it would probably be in your best interest to give up now, because it'll go a lot easier on you if you do!" Coiley shouted.

Raphael just turned and started to run. Phyllis stepped in front of him to block his path, but he wound up running right into her. Raphael crashed to the ground, and Phyllis ended up stumbling backwards. Before anything else could happen, Phyllis lost her footing completely, and fell directly into the river. Like Raphael's gun, the current started taking her downstream rapidly. Unfortunately, the current was too strong to swim through, and the jewelry that went with her costume was weighing her down quite a bit. Luckily, she managed to grab onto a rock, but she didn't know how long she would be able to hold on there.

"Hollerin' hi-fi's!" Fluey shouted.

"Argh!" Raphael groaned loudly, just as two SSHQ agents slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, and pulled him to his feet. "A million bucks in the drink! And down the drain! Once she hits that waterfall . . . . . ."

"Waterfall?" Fluey shouted, on the verge of panic. "Quick, fellas! You guys had better switch over so we can do the quick change bit the old way, unless Big D brought my transformer with him, which I highly doubt he did."

"It would take too long for us to do that," Coiley said.

"Besides which, you're in no condition to attempt going out there, anyway," Multi replied. Fluey hated to admit it, but Multi was right. His head was still killing him, and he was still feeling a bit disoriented from Raphael smacking him in the head.

"But don't worry, Fluey," Coiley went on. "Multi and I can take care of this. Do your stuff, Multi."

"Right," Multi said. "Rally ho!"

Multi immediately duplicated himself across the riverbank, forming a bridge across the river, two feet above Phyllis.

"Rally ho!" Coiley shouted, and he started bouncing across Multi's bridge. Once he got close enough, he stretched one of his arms toward Phyllis, while bracing himself with the other hand.

"Grab on, Phyllis!" he called.

"I don't know . . . ." Phyllis said, hesitantly. "I don't want to accidentally pull you in as well, Coiley!"

"Don't worry about it, just grab my hand!" Coiley shouted.

Nervously, Phyllis reached for Coiley's hand, slowly, while grasping onto the rock with the other hand. But just as she almost had it, she lost her grip on the rock. Coiley tried to grab her, but the current was moving too fast for him. Before he could try again, Phyllis went over the falls.

"No!" Fluey shouted, and he started running toward the riverbank, but he stopped when he realized it was too late. He stood there in shock, and slowly sank to his knees, just staring at the falls, blankly. Coiley and Multi returned, looking dejected.

"We're sorry, Fluey," Coiley said. "We should've tried . . . . ."

"It's not your fault," Fluey replied, shaking his head, and then he turned toward Raphael and gave him the fiercest glare he could muster. "It's _his_ fault! I oughta rip him apart with my bare hands!"

"Hold it," Big D said, grabbing his grandson's shoulder before he could do anything. "I can not allow you to do that."

"I know, I know," Fluey sighed. "We're not allowed to intentionally kill the bad guys."

"Right," Big D said. "Not that I wouldn't _love_ to see you slaughter this scoundrel. I know _I'd_ tear him limb from limb myself. But that's _too_ good for him. Mark my words, Fluid, I'll see to it personally that he'll pay for this. In spades!"

Fluey just nodded. He didn't know what else he could do. He heaved a sigh, and hung his head. Nobody else knew what to say, either. Suddenly, Fluey was broken out of his thoughts by a strange, humming noise.

"What in the world is _that_?" he asked.

"It kind of sounds like a hovercraft, or something like that," Multi said.

The group couldn't imagine what in the world that odd humming was, but they got their answer a few minutes later. Rising up from the edge of the falls was none other than Mike Rogers, on his Hover Board, carrying Phyllis in his arms. Phyllis had her arms wrapped around Mike's neck. Slowly, Mike came in for a landing where the others were standing, gaping at the sight.

"Thanks, Mike," Phyllis said.

"No sweat," Mike replied. Then he turned to the others. "Well, gang, here she is, safe and sound. A little waterlogged, maybe, but none worse for the wear."

"Phyllis, you're all right!" Fluey shouted, launching himself at his sister once Mike put her down. "I thought you were a goner!"

"So did I," Phyllis said, holding her brother close.

"Are you all right?" Big D asked, walking over. "I swear, I nearly had a heart attack!"

"I'm fine, thanks to Mike," Phyllis said. "He was at the right place at the right time."

"I'll say he was!" Coiley shouted.

"So what are we gonna do about Mr. Perfect, chief?" Fluey asked.

"I know exactly what to do about him," Big D replied, glaring at Raphael. "Rogers, I'll need to borrow that rifle you're carrying."

"I don't know about that, boss," Mike said, taking his rifle off his back. "You don't want to do anythin' too hasty now."

"I know what I'm doing," Big D said, taking the gun. Then he turned toward Raphael and the two agents.

"Release him," he said.

"You sure?" one of the agents asked.

"Yes," Big D said, giving Raphael a look that could definitely be qualified as one of those "if looks could kill" expressions. The agents unlocked the handcuffs, and took a couple of steps back. Raphael was so intimidated by the look on the chief's face, he wasn't going anywhere.

"While interrogating your accomplices, I found out about how you operate," Big D said. "They told me all about how the former sheik allowed you to 'break in' inexperienced young ladies."

"Not only that, chief," Fluey said. "But he was gonna give me a lesson in that 'breaking in' technique. And it would've been a hands on experience, if you get my drift."

"Oh really, now," Big D said, glaring even harder at Raphael. "You, sir, are _sick_!"

"Hey, come on, can't you take a joke?" Raphael said, nervously.

"Some joke!" Fluey shouted.

"I warned you," Big D said. "I warned you that if I even _suspected_ you hurt my little girl, I wouldn't hesitate to hurt you."

"What're you gonna do?" Raphael asked. "Kill me?"

"That would be too good for you, de Leo. No, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to personally see to it that you _never_ hurt another woman again."

And with that, Big D lifted Mike's rifle, took careful aim, and fired.

BLAM!

"Oooooohhhhhh . . . . ." the others cringed, as they saw Raphael hit the ground, shrieking in agony, holding his hands over his crotch.

"Man, that _had_ to _hurt_!" Fluey shouted. "I can't believe you actually _did_ that, chief!"

"Well, I _had_ warned him," Big D said, handing the gun back to Mike.

"Too bad he didn't take the warning seriously," Multi said.

Big D nodded, and instructed the other two agents to take Raphael/Vince into custody, and to get someone to deal with his injuries for the time being.

"We'd better get back to the church and explain everything," Multi said.

"Right," Coiley said. "I'm sure a lot of them want answers."

"Not necessarily," Big D said. "While we were interrogating de Leo's accomplices, we found out that most of the wedding guests were people they recruited off the street, claiming they were shooting a wedding and reception scene for a movie and needed extras, promising them free food at the reception."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll think it was all just for a movie," Multi said.

"Not likely," Big D replied. "They all caught on once Rogers interrupted the ceremony."

"So what are we going to do now?" Coiley asked.

"I've got an idea," Fluey said. "Let's skip the wedding and go straight to the reception. After all, Mr. Perfect promised those people free food, and I'd hate to see your mom's cooking go to waste, Coiley."

The others laughed, but they went along with it, anyway. After all, even though there wasn't any wedding, there was still something to celebrate. Victory.


	15. Perfect Match

Once the gang returned to the chapel, they explained the entire situation to them, and that it had been resolved. As Big D had said, several of the people there had it figured out, but a few _did_ think it had all been a movie being filmed. Once everything had been explained, everyone went to the church hall for the "reception," even though there hadn't been any wedding.

"I've had weddings called off during the ceremony before," the minister said. "But they were _never_ quite like this!"

"I can imagine," Big D commented.

"The weirdest I've ever gotten was a guy who came in and stopped the wedding and he said the couple couldn't get married because the woman Abraham Lincoln in a past life."

Big D merely nodded. It was about all he could do after an explanation like _that_ (and possibly wonder if the minister had spent a little too much time at the bar).

Phyllis was making her way around the room, apologizing to every single one of the guests for what happened, and she also insisted on paying for everything, including reimbursing Shawn, FG, Danalleah, and Daisy for their dresses, and she insisted she pay Coiley's mother her usual catering fee, as well as Courtney's flower girl dress, along with the church fee. She also insisted on paying Coiley and Multi's tuxedo rental fees.

After a couple of hours, everyone began to leave. The only ones left at the church hall were Big D, Phyllis, Mike, the Impossibles, the girls, and Coiley's parents and his little sister. They were helping Coiley's mother clean up.

"Brother, what a day this turned out to be!" Fluey shouted.

"You're telling me!" Phyllis shouted. Then she heaved a sigh. "I'm _really_ sorry I didn't believe you, Fluey."

"It's okay, sis," Fluey said. "You just got suckered by a good looking guy. It happens."

"I guess this'll teach me to trust your judgement, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't say _that._ I mean, I _have_ had my off days."

"What do you mean off days, Fluey?" Multi asked. "Your intuition is _always_ right!"

"Not always," Fluey said. "Remember wen FG first joined the team? When that gang of jewel thieves tried to steal the Daydream Diamond from the Thorkleson Municipal Museum in Nesmith, Texas?"

"Oh yeah, the gang that had a teenage girl for a ringleader," FG said, nodding.

"Well, I got suckered by a pretty face and helped pull off the robbery," Fluey said, and then braced himself for what was coming next.

"You _what?_" Big D shouted at the top of his voice, giving his grandson a confused look.

"She somehow convinced me that the diamond belonged her family and the city stole it from her. She had me use my powers to sneak in, disable the alarm, and snatch the diamond. But you know everything worked out. We got the diamond back and Nadia and her gang ended up in the slammer, and that's when you officially put Shawn and FG on the payroll, chief. We just left out the part about me being the one that snatched the rock, because we _knew_ you'd hit the roof."

"I see," Big D said, calmly.

"But it just goes to show that nobody's perfect," Fluey said, shrugging.

"Right," Phyllis said.

"Well, we'll hold on to our bridesmaid dresses just in case we have to go through this again," Shawn said.

"Well, that's the last of the leftovers," Martha said as she closed a lid on a container. "Come on, Calvin. Help us load up the truck."

"I'd say it's time we all call it a night," Big D said.

"I'm with you, chief," Fluey said. "Incidentally . . . . . am I still suspended?"

"No," Big D said. "In light of what happened, and the fact that you were right all along, I'm lifting the suspension."

"Thanks, chief!"

"But that doesn't let you off the hook with all the mischief you caused, young man. I still expect you to pay for the damages to the stores you wrecked."

Fluey just shrugged. He didn't really expect Big D would let him off the hook over that.

"You coming, sis?" Fluey asked, as he and Big D started leaving.

"No, I think I'm going to hang out here for a little while," Phyllis said. "Take care of some last minute clean up details."

"All right," Big D said. "Just don't stay out too late."

Phyllis nodded, and she began picking up some of the trash that had been left around. Mike was still hanging around as well, and he began to pick up some litter as well.

"What a day, huh?" Mike said, as he tossed a pile of paper plates into a nearby trash can.

"You're telling me!" Phyllis shouted. "My friends often told me that a girl's wedding day is one of the most unforgettable days of her life. I think I'm inclined to agree. I don't think I'll ever forget this day, no matter how hard I try!"

"At least it ended well. I hate to think of what could've happened had I not decided to stop by."

"Yeah, I know."

Things hit a lull just then. Mike just stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, while Phyllis started twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, biting her lower lip.

"Ummm . . . ." Phyllis started, a little nervously. "I want to thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, hey, it wasn't any big deal," Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Then he realized what he said. "Uhhh, I mean, that's not to say your life wasn't any big deal . . . . . I meant what I did wasn't any big deal . . . . . uhhh . . . ."

"I knew what you meant. Mike, I wanted to ask you . . . . . . I've worked at the agency for three years, and you've been there about four years. How come you never said anything about the playground sixteen years ago before?"

"Well . . . . I didn't think you'd remember. The minute I saw your name plate on the desk, I knew you were the little girl I used to hang around with on the playground. The one who gave me that little clay heart."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I _did_ remember, but . . . . I hadn't given it much thought until I found that old Cracker Jacks ring in my jewelry box this morning. When I got home that day, I told the chief when I grew up, I was going to marry the boy that gave me that ring."

"Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

Phyllis laughed over that, and she and Mike finished cleaning up. Once they were done, Mike gave Phyllis a ride home on his motorcycle.

Two weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, Fluey was parked in front of the TV in the den when he saw Phyllis coming down the hallway, wearing that pink and white gingham dress of hers.

"Uh oh," he said. "Don't tell me you've got a date!"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Phyllis said, stopping at the hall mirror to check her hair.

"I thought after that fiasco with Raphael Caprezio, or Vince de Leo, or whatever the heck his name is, you'd swear off men," Fluey said.

"Don't worry about it, Fluey," Phyllis said, just as the doorbell rang, and she turned to go answer it.

Fluey waited for a couple of minutes, and followed his sister to the front door. He made it there just as Phyllis left the house, closing the door behind her. Quickly, Fluey went to the window and looked. He saw Mike walking with Phyllis to his motorcycle, and he handed her a helmet. She put it on, and sat down on the back of the bike. Fluey also noticed Mike wasn't wearing his usual coveralls. Instead, he was wearing a white turtleneck underneath a blue blazer, black pants, and black loafers. Once Mike put on his own helmet, he started up his bike, and took off.

"Phyllis has got a date with Mike," Fluey said. "_Yyyyyyeeeessssss!_"

Fluey went back to the den after that. He knew he wouldn't have to try to sabotage his sister's potential romance this time around. He knew a good love connection when he saw it, and this was it. He knew Mike and Phyllis were a perfect match.

The End

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: The reference to the whole Daydream Diamond bit can be found in one of my earlier fanfics, titled "Fluid Girl."_


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